Omar Khoury I pressed my nose upon my mother’s sleeve, the incense nestled within it, both welcoming and overwhelming. Her hair whips thin, their curls like cresting waves crashing upon themselves....
“Fulcrum” Acrylic on canvas “The Postman And His Destination” Acrylic on canvas “Our Destination” Acrylic on canvas “Compact Culture” Acrylic on canvas...
Yahia Lababidi Where were you during the apocalypse on the other side of the world? Did you pause to observe a moment of silence? Did the extermination of the other half interrupt your sleep?...
Fiction The Valley by Mays Kuhail The Well and the Grove by Tariq Karibian Nonfiction On the Brink of Something by Hasheemah Afaneh I click on a map of languages, dead and dying by Lori Yeghiayan...
Mohammed Abu Lebda One sets traps for doves, Aged at the thresholds of emptiness, Or bakes time slowly on a flame, For patience to ripen within. Amidst war’s chaos, Love transforms into a...
Fatihah Quadri When a country hates another country, the children suffer everyday from the sun. A house falls and the dream shatters to the ground. The first thing my mother taught me about...
Raya Tuffaha And what if I damn you? If I write the explosion in stageable italics, if I poeticize and profit-size and donate and educate, what if I learn your language and boundaries, then what?...
Mandy Shunnarah Nobody ever asks who baked the bread, coaxed the yeast & flour with alchemy, or beckoned its rise with knuckles & patience. Nobody asks who smoked the fish, much...
Mays Kuhail “Dodi, Dodi!” Giza nudges me awake. “The wall is coming down.” I open my eyes, slowly adjusting them to dawn. The sun is making its way out of the valley’s horizon,...
Tariq Karibian It’s 11:53 AM. Your phone is at 57%. Since the Internet went down, you’ve been keeping it on Low Power mode and using it mostly as a clock. There is a lull in the chaos outside....
