Donate to support Batool’s cause

Hi, I’m Nashwa in the UK and I’m fundraising for my friend, the brilliant and talented poet and translator Batool Abu Akleen.

Batool is the poet in residence for Modern Poetry in Translation and her debut poetry collection is out with Tenement press this year: https://tenementpress.com/Batool-Abu-Akleen

Batool only recently returned to north Gaza after a long period of displacement. Their family home was bombed, there is severe food shortage and no one knows what the future holds. I’ll be sending her the funds to help them with the escalating daily living costs.

I wrote about Batool and other wonderful Palestinian poets from Gaza in this article in New Lines Magazine: https://newlinesmag.com/review/gazan-poets-write-to-survive/#:~:text=Writers%20in%20Gaza%20today%2C%20threatened,now%20entered%20its%20second%20year.

Please consider supporting this campaign.

This is one of her poems (English below)

هكذا أطهو حزني / This is how I cook my grief

أقطف من الشارع قلوباً طازجةً

أختار أكثرها خيبةً

بيدٍ خفيفةٍ أسرق الدموع

.أعبئ رائحة الحزن في علب السردين الصدئة

نظرات الأمهات تلتصق بأعينهن بشدة

.فأخطفها برشاقةٍ لأني أشبه أطفالهن

في قدرٍ نحاسيٍ

أغلي كل مسروقاتي

أضيف لها دماً لم تشربه الأرض بعد

.ونشارةَ تابوتٍ كان باباً لبيته الجديد

أسكبُ الخليطَ في قلبي

فيصبح أسوداً

هكذا أطهو حزني

I pick fresh hearts from the street

the most defeated ones

with nimble fingers I steal the tears

I fill rusted sardine tins with the smell of sorrow.

Mothers’ glances cling tight to their eyes

but I snatch them easily, because I resemble their children.

In a copper pot

I boil what I’ve stolen,

add the blood that hadn't been absorbed

& sawdust from a coffin meant as the door to a new home.

I pour the mixture into my heart

until it blackens.

This is how I cook my grief.