ghofranesblog

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happy new year. may we see a free palestine in 2025

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Andrea Gibson, Lord of the Butterflies

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Crows

by Mary Oliver

It is January, and there are crows like black flowers on the snow. While I watch, they rise and float toward the frozen pond, they have seen some streak of death on the dark ice. They gather around it and consume everything, the strings and the red music of that nameless body. Then they shout, one hungry, blunt voice echoing another. It begins to rain. Later, it becomes February, and even later, spring returns, a chorus of thousands. They bow, and begin their important music. I recognize the oriole. I recognize the thrush, and the mockingbird. I recognize the business of summer, which is to forge ahead, delicately. So I dip my fingers among the green stems, delicately. I lounge at the edge of the leafing pond, delicately. I scarcely remember the crust of the snow. I scarcely remember the icy dawns and the sun like a lamp without a fuse. I don’t remember the fury of loneliness. I never felt the wind’s drift. I never heard of the struggle between anything and nothing. I never saw the flapping, blood-gulping crows.

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mum says loved ones who have passed on returns to visit in dreams on the seventh day since their death. it was your seventh day last night. i dreamt of you. i find it poetic and so, so, so sad. i ran to you and hugged you. i lifted you up. i told you we love you and i hope you know it forever. i thought of you this morning in the car. i wept when one of your favourite songs came on. i cried when my mum told me that loved ones who have passed on returns to visit in dreams on the seventh day since their death. i can’t believe it’s been a week.

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Grandmas were so right about puzzles and knitting and crocheting and solitaire and reading slow and slippers and baking and watching deer in the backyard send post

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I Am Learning to Abandon the World

by Linda Pastan

I am learning to abandon the world before it can abandon me. Already I have given up the moon and snow, closing my shades against the claims of white. And the world has taken my father, my friends. I have given up melodic lines of hills, moving to a flat, tuneless landscape. And every night I give my body up limb by limb, working upwards across bone, towards the heart. But morning comes with small reprieves of coffee and birdsong. A tree outside the window which was simply shadow moments ago takes back its branches twig by leafy twig. And as I take my body back the sun lays its warm muzzle on my lap as if to make amends.

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i gotta remember this

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in case you didn't know, mitski got the name of her third album from a simpsons episode

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Words from sun bleached flies by Ethel cain

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ugh why must I be always so repulsed by my own vulnerability but I find it very moving and impressive if other people are vulnerable with me????

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Leila Chatti, from “Tea”

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{Quotes:Nitya prakash/Richard siken ,crush}

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[i want to go back] by Gregory Orr

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The Israeli criminal army allowed the aid to enter Gaza City, they as soon as it reached people who were gathering on AlRasheed Street, the Israeli tanks started to shoot people killing nearly 150 and wounding 1,000.