Against barbarity, poetry can resist only by confirming its attachment to human fragility like a blade of grass growing on a wall while armies march by.
Palestinian people are in love with life.
The metaphor for Palestine is stronger than the Palestine of reality.
I don’t decide to represent anything except myself. But that self is full of collective memory.
I never wanted children; maybe I’m afraid of responsibility.
I see poetry as spiritual medicine.
The Palestinians are the only nation in the world that feels with certainty that today is better than what the days ahead will hold. Tomorrow always heralds a worse situation.
Sarcasm helps me overcome the harshness of the reality we live, eases the pain of scars and makes people smile.
Poetry and beauty are always making peace. When you read something beautiful you find coexistence; it breaks walls down.
Sometimes I feel as if I am read before I write. When I write a poem about my mother, Palestinians think my mother is a symbol for Palestine. But I write as a poet, and my mother is my mother. She’s not a symbol.