Hijra: Crab Orchard Series in Poetry
Autor Hala Alyanen Limba Engleză Paperback – 15 aug 2016
In her third poetry collection, Hijra, Hala Alyan creates poems of migration and flight reflecting and bearing witness to the haunting particulars in her transnational journey as well as those of her mother, her aunts, and the female ancestors in Gaza and Syria.
The reader sees war, diaspora, and immigration, and hears the marginalized voices of women of color. The poems use lyrical diction and striking imagery to evoke the weight of an emotional and visceral journey. They grow and build in length and form, reflecting the gains the women in the poems make in re-creating selfhood through endurance and strength.
In prose, narrative, and confessional-style poems, Alyan reflects on how physical space is refashioned, transmitted, and remembered. Her voice is distinct, fresh, relevant, and welcoming.
The reader sees war, diaspora, and immigration, and hears the marginalized voices of women of color. The poems use lyrical diction and striking imagery to evoke the weight of an emotional and visceral journey. They grow and build in length and form, reflecting the gains the women in the poems make in re-creating selfhood through endurance and strength.
In prose, narrative, and confessional-style poems, Alyan reflects on how physical space is refashioned, transmitted, and remembered. Her voice is distinct, fresh, relevant, and welcoming.
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9780809335404
ISBN-10: 0809335409
Pagini: 84
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 x 10 mm
Greutate: 0.14 kg
Ediția:1st Edition
Editura: Southern Illinois University Press
Colecția Southern Illinois University Press
Seria Crab Orchard Series in Poetry
ISBN-10: 0809335409
Pagini: 84
Dimensiuni: 152 x 229 x 10 mm
Greutate: 0.14 kg
Ediția:1st Edition
Editura: Southern Illinois University Press
Colecția Southern Illinois University Press
Seria Crab Orchard Series in Poetry
Notă biografică
Hala Alyan’s first poetry collection, Atrium, was awarded the 2013 Arab American Book Award in Poetry. Her second book, Four Cities, was published in September 2015. She is a clinical psychologist in New York City.
Extras
ANCESTRY
I'll lament the seeds flung
into ocean. Roots in fish gut
and everywhere the cities leak
mouths. What remains of god is
dwarfed, taken; stars expire
beneath clouds; a comet trickles
ice. All leg and eyelash, I sought
orchards torched. Our fathers tell
the story of this luminous dust,
a soil red as zinnias.
INVASION
Was it not September choking
down thunder and hail,
eating away at the cast-iron
statues until even the wings
melted into some creature
flooded and featherless,
a skyline of crackling red trees
Was it not footfall that came through
the roofs of river houses,
floorboards beneath wolves
howling flight, saying hide
the girls for God's sake;
they're coming and they're starved
Everywhere sulfur rises, crocuses explode,
lovers walk in pecan groves
and smell rust, rows of oleander
within the monsoon
Each gold finch
unhooks her song at dusk,
as militias gather lungs
AZRA
There is a tunnel, elsewhere, that I live in.
It is a house full of nails and not one hammer.
By midmorning cicadas narrate testaments.
I name my daughters after the fled villages,
Akka, Qira. They speak the language of falcons,
lyrics about animal hearts, succulent,
red. They awaken the mice with their dreaming.
If there is a husband, he salts the soil.
Nothing is merciful with him, and when he sings
I see twenty women tearing satin dresses,
black finches swarming the coast.
He says I have hands like Baghdad.
I wonder if he means the tending or the torching.
ASYLUM
They said burn the keys
but only our hair caught fire.
We walked to the borders
with photographs and letters:
this is where the dying began
their dying, this is where
they knifed the children.
The judges called us in
by our cities. Jericho. Latakia. Haditha.
We swore on a god we never met, to love
the lakes, the ice caps,
one frost after another,
but at night in our dreams
the library burnt,
the pears were still crisp in the pantry.
We waited for our flooded village
to be siphoned, the stone bridges rebuilt.
We ate the house keys with salt.
TRANSATLANTIC
Z, I'll meet you as dawn
splinters the city into
a forest of reed and lichen.
Remember us lost.
Remember us before this
longing, asleep in
each of our houses-
yours ancient, mine lush
with the scent of rosemary,
irises zippered between
fallen mosques. Each rainfall
incites the paradise
you spoke of, unworn rubies,
carafes of silk, a glorious sky.
You are the leopard and the
beautiful prey it stalks,
mouth poised over a pool
of melted snow. I wanted
silver mist, a veil of
wasps thronging the lilies, pink
grapefruits pulped and
nested with ants. I wanted
abandon. You held
the slender neck of the viola,
wrote verses about birds
and their skulls.
Trees are the ships that
house us now. Our lives lit.
You say exodus will save us,
a necklace of grungy cities.
I'll do wudu a thousand times.
I'll pray to your scientific god.
I'll lament the seeds flung
into ocean. Roots in fish gut
and everywhere the cities leak
mouths. What remains of god is
dwarfed, taken; stars expire
beneath clouds; a comet trickles
ice. All leg and eyelash, I sought
orchards torched. Our fathers tell
the story of this luminous dust,
a soil red as zinnias.
INVASION
Was it not September choking
down thunder and hail,
eating away at the cast-iron
statues until even the wings
melted into some creature
flooded and featherless,
a skyline of crackling red trees
Was it not footfall that came through
the roofs of river houses,
floorboards beneath wolves
howling flight, saying hide
the girls for God's sake;
they're coming and they're starved
Everywhere sulfur rises, crocuses explode,
lovers walk in pecan groves
and smell rust, rows of oleander
within the monsoon
Each gold finch
unhooks her song at dusk,
as militias gather lungs
AZRA
There is a tunnel, elsewhere, that I live in.
It is a house full of nails and not one hammer.
By midmorning cicadas narrate testaments.
I name my daughters after the fled villages,
Akka, Qira. They speak the language of falcons,
lyrics about animal hearts, succulent,
red. They awaken the mice with their dreaming.
If there is a husband, he salts the soil.
Nothing is merciful with him, and when he sings
I see twenty women tearing satin dresses,
black finches swarming the coast.
He says I have hands like Baghdad.
I wonder if he means the tending or the torching.
ASYLUM
They said burn the keys
but only our hair caught fire.
We walked to the borders
with photographs and letters:
this is where the dying began
their dying, this is where
they knifed the children.
The judges called us in
by our cities. Jericho. Latakia. Haditha.
We swore on a god we never met, to love
the lakes, the ice caps,
one frost after another,
but at night in our dreams
the library burnt,
the pears were still crisp in the pantry.
We waited for our flooded village
to be siphoned, the stone bridges rebuilt.
We ate the house keys with salt.
TRANSATLANTIC
Z, I'll meet you as dawn
splinters the city into
a forest of reed and lichen.
Remember us lost.
Remember us before this
longing, asleep in
each of our houses-
yours ancient, mine lush
with the scent of rosemary,
irises zippered between
fallen mosques. Each rainfall
incites the paradise
you spoke of, unworn rubies,
carafes of silk, a glorious sky.
You are the leopard and the
beautiful prey it stalks,
mouth poised over a pool
of melted snow. I wanted
silver mist, a veil of
wasps thronging the lilies, pink
grapefruits pulped and
nested with ants. I wanted
abandon. You held
the slender neck of the viola,
wrote verses about birds
and their skulls.
Trees are the ships that
house us now. Our lives lit.
You say exodus will save us,
a necklace of grungy cities.
I'll do wudu a thousand times.
I'll pray to your scientific god.
Cuprins
CONTENTS
Ancestry
PART ONE
Before the Revolt
New Year
Aria
Wedding
Alchemy
The Children
Invasion
Marriage
Rapture in Absentia
The Youngest Wife
Hijra
The Prophecy
PART TWO
Budur
Azra
Khadija
Seham
Maysam
Lujayn
Hadeel
Reema
Zaynab
Yasmin
Lamis
Amna
Sana
Fatima
Afra
PART THREE
Meals
Asylum
First Winter
Plumage
In the City of Fire
Idols
The Letter Home
Asking for the Daughter
Retrieval
Diaspora
PART FOUR
Foliage
Hamra
Marrow
Salat
Mania
Bandits
Scripts
Solarium
Exile Nocturne
Riots
Transatlantic
Chirophobia
Forecasting
Lions
Acknowledgments
Ancestry
PART ONE
Before the Revolt
New Year
Aria
Wedding
Alchemy
The Children
Invasion
Marriage
Rapture in Absentia
The Youngest Wife
Hijra
The Prophecy
PART TWO
Budur
Azra
Khadija
Seham
Maysam
Lujayn
Hadeel
Reema
Zaynab
Yasmin
Lamis
Amna
Sana
Fatima
Afra
PART THREE
Meals
Asylum
First Winter
Plumage
In the City of Fire
Idols
The Letter Home
Asking for the Daughter
Retrieval
Diaspora
PART FOUR
Foliage
Hamra
Marrow
Salat
Mania
Bandits
Scripts
Solarium
Exile Nocturne
Riots
Transatlantic
Chirophobia
Forecasting
Lions
Acknowledgments
Recenzii
“Hala Alyan’s prize book is cogent and unfailingly beautiful. The Arabic word hijra, rooted in Mohammed’s undaunted escape to Medina, implies an honorable departure, and the intrepid female speaker of these vigilant, striking poems, in her telltale flight toward sanity, integrity, and safety, is wholly committed to creating a bomb-proof, dazzling language capable of conveying the phantom horror of a ‘perished city’ or the grace of downcast mothers ‘draping headstones with myrrh and lace.’ Hijra is no ordinary outcry or lament: with her electric metaphors and protean descriptions (‘asters the colors of sea glass’), everything Hala Alyan touches in this keen, ruby-like book, turns to priceless testimony and needed revelation, annealing legend and hard-won song.”—Cyrus Cassells, author of The Crossed-Out Swastika
"I hadn't heard of this poet before I picked up her collection in a bookstore in Queens and was immediately floored...by her use of image and mystery to explore migration and history. I love the work Southern Illinois University published (especially Charif Shanahan's Into Each Room We Enter without Knowing) and this book showed me how large a story you can tell inside of short strange-lyric poems."---Sam Sax, author of Madness, winner of the 2016 National Poetry Series Competition
"I hadn't heard of this poet before I picked up her collection in a bookstore in Queens and was immediately floored...by her use of image and mystery to explore migration and history. I love the work Southern Illinois University published (especially Charif Shanahan's Into Each Room We Enter without Knowing) and this book showed me how large a story you can tell inside of short strange-lyric poems."---Sam Sax, author of Madness, winner of the 2016 National Poetry Series Competition
Descriere
In her third poetry collection, Hijra, Hala Alyan creates poems of migration and flight reflecting and bearing witness to the haunting particulars in her transnational journey as well as those of her mother, her mother’s sister, the lost aunts of her father in Gaza, and her Syrian grandmother.