I am very grateful to Lilith Magazine for publishing this poem - From the River to the Sea, from my award winning micro-chapbook published by Harbor Review online, This is... read more →
does look back—and we readers are grateful that
we get to be part of her Judeo-Arabic speaking
Iraqi Jewish family.
about identity and belonging: Lily Shehady, a Christian
Arab from Nazareth; Sarah Sassoon, an Iraqi Jewish Olah
in Jerusalem, and Sandra Gugić, and atheist with
Austrian-Serbian background living in Tel Aviv-Yafo.
Where does history begin, with the personal, with the
political, or with the language? What it is the language
of belonging? These shared questions complement each
other and create a space, a room, and a landscape.
Literature needs not only a room of one's own but
passageways leading to the other's story.
Thrilled to have this poem published in Mom Egg Review Online Poetry Folio on their special edition - Mothers Respond – MER Online Poetry Folio Curated by Jennifer Martelli and... read more →
So pleased to have this poem Let Us Talk about the Blood - about how we talk to our boys, how we grow up men, in this November issue of... read more →
It’s not every day you win an award, and I’m learning to relish every happy step of the journey, every affirmation which says, I may be obsessed but I’m on... read more →
Poetica Magazine, ADRPAward Third Place changing Ethiopian names is an old immigrant story my grandfather and his brothers were known by different last names don’t tell me who I am... read more →
Shlomi Hatuka interviewed by Sarah Sassoon First Published in Halah Magazine Sarah Sassoon: In a 2016 Forward Magazine article, Ayelet Tsabari described Ars Poetica as “the best party in town... read more →
I stand two feet hopping on the threshold I think of the children hands covering their ears one two three four hundred and sixty try think of lucky shooting stars... read more →
my grandmother believes in red blood flowers each woman has at least one many survive many do not I had no idea what this meant until now I am here... read more →
because this evening I burnt the dates charred like my grandmother’s heart I attempt another batch break open plump Medjools pry open pips boil until squashy enough to squeeze the... read more →
My grandmother believes garlic cures all ills, even feverish, frenzied fears so I sneak fresh cloves into my son’s soup, I burn and boil onion and garlic Cooking my way... read more →
First Clove the smell of garlic is the beginning of everything and in every beginning is a scent of the end I am seeking my beginnings in the soil of... read more →
Warriors cannot stop contemplating exile although they want only to sit Hand caressing cheek dry eyes closed now because who wants to see What happened since pottery was buried future... read more →
the language I come from has no mother so what if I don’t have a mother tongue that rolls off my lips Arabic Hebrew English never quite reaching my mouth... read more →