Sreena K.S.

“If Wittgenstein walked down a street in a Palestinian city today and looked at the local vocabulary, he would tell us that the ‘form of life’ there is built around monitoring and containing women. Think about how language is weaponized when a woman speaks up for her basic rights. Instead of listening to her arguments, the people around her will immediately reach into their linguistic toolbox and pull out a label. They will say she is carrying Ajendat Kharijiyyah (Foreign Agendas) or call her a Mutamarridah (Rebel). By turning the word ‘feminist’ (Nasawiyyah) into a dirty word or an insult, the society plays a psychological trick. It makes a woman feel that defending herself is a betrayal of her culture, her religion, and her family. Another philosopher, Miranda Fricker, calls this ‘Hermeneutical Injustice.’ That happens when a society leaves a marginalized group without the right words to describe their own suffering. In the Palestinian dialect, the language is incredibly rich when it wants to tear a woman down, if she talks back, she has a ‘long tongue’; if she complains about carrying all the household burdens alone, she is ‘miserable’ (Nakdiyyah); if she stays single past her twenties, she is labeled as ‘unsalable goods’ (Bayirah). But notice what is missing: the everyday spoken dialect historically lacks quick, natural words for things like marital rape, emotional manipulation (gaslighting), or systemic domestic control. The language makes it effortless for a man to insult a woman’s desire for freedom, but makes it incredibly complicated for a woman to explain why she is hurting. She is trapped by the vocabulary itself.”

In that invisible place between time and space, allow me to rest.
In that infinitesimal difference between the flower and its fragrance, let me linger.
In the delicate point between poetry and prose, may I pause
Between air and water in that vapour-lik

In that invisible place between time and space, allow me to rest.
In that infinitesimal difference between the flower and its fragrance, let me linger.
In the delicate point between poetry and prose, may I pause
Between air and water in that vapour-like vicinity, allow me to live.

"He wonders at himself, about his inability to learn to forget and at always remaining attached

"He wonders at himself, about his inability to learn to forget and at always remaining attached to the past: however far or fast he runs, that chain runs with him."

A few verses in particular completely stole my heart:

“Has she melted into my heart?

Or is she reflected there?

Perhaps she’s been painted?

Or engraved?

Or studded like some precious gem?

Or consecrated like a goddess on her plinth?

Or buried like some invaluable treasure?

Or pinned by the Love God’s five arrows?

Or sewn tight into the fabric of my heart

by the threads of my thoughts?”

2. On the lethal power of natural beauty:

“Beautiful,

let your doe-eyes be.

No kohl, please.

When the arrow can kill by itself

why rub poison on the tip?”

(A brilliant line celebrating eyes so naturally captivating that adding kohl feels redundant—why poison an arrow that is already lethal?)

3. A tender tribute to dimples:

“After creating her

God must have

gazed at his work admiringly

holding her face in his hands

thumb on each cheek.

That’s how she got

her two perfect dimples.”

Beyond the poetry itself, I really appreciated that the book provides helpful context, including the author, date, and historical background for each poet.

Overall, this collection is absolute magic and well worth every second spent reading it.