how to say
in the divorce i separate to two piles books: english love songs: arabic
my angers my schooling my long repeating name english english arabic
i am someone’s daughter but i am american born it shows in my short memory
my ahistoric glamour my clumsy tongue when i forget the word for [ ] in arabic
i sleep unbroken dark hours on airplanes home & dream i’ve missed my
connecting flight i dream a new & fluent mouth full of gauzy swathes of arabic
i dream my alternate selves each with a face borrowed from photographs of
the girl who became my grandmother brows & body rounded & cursive like arabic
but wake to the usual borderlands i crowd shining slivers of english to my mouth
iris crocus inlet heron how dare i love a word without knowing it in arabic
& what even is translation is immigration without irony safia
means pure all my life it’s been true even in my clouded arabic
Copyright © 2017 by Safia Elhillo. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on June 13, 2017, by the Academy of American Poets.
“This poem is the first time I’ve put down in writing the scary thought that I may no longer be fluent in Arabic, my first language and mother tongue. And while it is a space to mourn, it is a space to also take ownership of my hyphens, of the hybrid worlds and languages I live in. I chose the ghazal as its form for its ancientness and lineage, a reminder that I came from somewhere as I strike out into new worlds.”
—Safia Elhillo