Maya Abu Al-Hayyat
Translated from the Arabic by Fady Joudah
Like the rest of you,
I thought of escape.
But I have a fear of flying,
a phobia of congested bridges
and traffic accidents,
of learning a new language.
My plan’s for a simple getaway,
a small departure:
pack my children in a suitcase
and to a new place we go.
Directions confuse me:
there’s no forest in this city,
no desert either.
Do you know a road for loss
that doesn’t end
in a settlement?
I thought of befriending animals,
the adorable type, as substitutes
for my children’s electronic toys.
And before anyone sacrifices another,
I want a place for getting lost.
My children will grow,
their questions will multiply,
and I don’t tell lies,
but teachers distort my words.
I don’t hold grudges,
but neighbors are always nosy.
I don’t reproach,
but enemies kill.
My children grow older,
and no one’s thought yet
to broadcast the last news hour,
shut down religious channels,
seal school roofs and walls,
end torture.
I don’t dare to speak.
Whatever I speak of happens.
I don’t want to speak.
I’d rather be lost.
from the journal ASYMPTOTE
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"The poetry of Palestinian writer Maya Abu Al-Hayyat is a celebration of, and a nod to, inimitable simplicity. Maya’s catalogs and leaps are not about creating musical awe or mental explosions. She stacks and files her contradictions, presences and absences, tragicomic pleasures, in stride—with lucid feelings, an illusory disappearance of hesitation: in rooms, streets, houses, on bookshelves or maps full of organized chaos and well-misplaced items." 

Fady Joudah on  "A Road for Loss"
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