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Dear God. Dear Bones. Dear Yellow.
What is political poetry? How does history become lived experience? What does it mean to bear witness through writing?
Noor Hindi’s poems explore colonialism, religion, patriarchy and everything in between with sharp wit and innovative precision. Layered to reflect the intersections of her identity, while constantly interrogating this identity itself, her writing combines lyrical beauty with political urgency.
This collection is ultimately a provocation―on trauma, on art, on what it takes to change the world.
Noor Hindi’s poems explore colonialism, religion, patriarchy and everything in between with sharp wit and innovative precision. Layered to reflect the intersections of her identity, while constantly interrogating this identity itself, her writing combines lyrical beauty with political urgency.
This collection is ultimately a provocation―on trauma, on art, on what it takes to change the world.
87 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 31, 2022
37 people are currently reading
4577 people want to read
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October 29, 2023
‘I document as argument; I exist.’
‘Reporting is an act of violence—poetry one of warmth.’ writes Palestinian American poet and reporter Noor Hindi, ‘I record. I interview. I document. I see // violence.’ Her debut collection, Dear God. Dear Bones. Dear Yellow., from Haymarket Books takes reporting into the realm of poetry, chronicling the unfolding of imperialist violence both outside and within the United States as she discusses immigration, colonialism, religion, and tradition. Hindi’s words are like lightning in the night sky, illuminating the dark with power and passion that can burn those in its path as she writes in support of Palestine, Arab womanhood and queerness against those who aim to harm or destroy them. She writes of the struggles of immigrants, being forced from their homes by acts of war into a country where they are met with violence and xenophobia, to realize ‘my tax dollars pay for the bombs that kill my people.’ This is a necessary and extraordinary collection with so much heart and intensity radiating from each page that makes this debut collection seem like Noor Hindi has always been the needed voice in the world of poetry.
‘We Too Are American We Too Are American We Too Are American We Too Are American We Too Are American We Too Are American We Too Are American We Too Are American…
…If I keep repeating it, will it render my family into existence? To Whom?
I want to believe language matters, that words create meaning, that a person can breathe a thing into existence.’
To exist, or to feel your existence invalidated by others, is a major theme in this collection. Noor Hindi has us witness the difficulties of obtaining citizenship with multiple poems taking place at US Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) office, has us witness white secretaries saying Palestine isn’t recognized and crossing it off official documents, has us witness the othering and invalidating that occurs everywhere from classrooms to even protests where a white woman calls her ‘fake news.’ She writes ‘I want people to stop asking if I love this country. No. Ask if it loves me.’ She talks of how long the process is, noting the immigration officer has a plaque noting his six years of service, the same amount of time it has taken her grandmother to be allowed to take her civics test. A particularly inventive poem—the title ‘In Which the White Woman on My Thesis Defense Asks Me about Witness’ pretty much explains it all—is written as a multiple choice test not unlike a civics exam in which she must answer and perform the labor of justifying her own experience and selfhood. All this while there is an ongoing genocide against Palestinians in Gaza.
‘I argue: I exist. Palestine exists. Undocumented immigrants exist. Muslims exist.
My desire to make this argument is rooted in America’s desire to erase me.’
Noor Hindi has such an incredible harness on language and uses it to maximum effect. She calls out those who need to be called out but also makes space for love. This collection moves between fervent and righteous anger to tenderness and hope, each poem plunging the reader into deep and textured emotions. The language isn’t enough,’ she says, however, and questions how we can simply talk about the evil realities of violence and colonialism and still be pushed back against by those made uncomfortable by it. ‘I’m supposed to be feeding them whatever is the opposite of guilt’, she writes, ‘I want to move beyond. Where?’ Perhaps the most impactful poem in the collection, one that hits to the roots of everything here, is Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People are Dying:
’Colonizers write about flowers.
I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks
seconds before becoming daisies.
I want to be like those poets who care about the moon.
Palestinians don’t see the moon from jail cells and prisons.
It’s so beautiful, the moon.
They’re so beautiful, the flowers.
I pick flowers for my dead father when I’m sad.
He watches Al Jazeera all day.
I wish Jessica would stop texting me Happy Ramadan.
I know I’m American because when I walk into a room something dies.
Metaphors about death are for poets who think ghosts care about sound.
When I die, I promise to haunt you forever.
One day, I’ll write about the flowers like we own them.’
We should be distributing this poem around like leaflets. It looks at the incongruities one would feel working in an artistic form where, yes, it is important to celebrate the beauty around us, but also recognizing that to focus solely on that is a privilege when there is so much violence and trauma beleaguering many others.
Dear God. Dear Bones. Dear Yellow. is a must-read collection that is filled with some unforgettable moments. There is the poem Dangerous Business where a poem about the first time using a tampon is interjected with statements about sexual assault and honor killings written in all-caps, Self-Portrait as Arab/Muslim Teenager in an All-White High School that bombards the reader with the racism faced that tries to be washed away when the abuser says ‘I’m joking’, and the extraordinary closing poem Pledging Allegiance. Noor Hindi has created something incredible here.
5/5
Ode
The night so warm I could fall in love
with anything
including myself. My loves, you are the only people
I’d surrender my softness to.
The moon is so blue. What’s gold
is gold. What’s real
is us despite
a country so grieved, so woke, so deathly.
Our gloom as loud as shells.
Listen. Even the ocean begs.
Put your hands in the sand, my friend.
It’s best we bury ourselves.
What’s heavy. What’s heavy?
Becomes light.
‘Reporting is an act of violence—poetry one of warmth.’ writes Palestinian American poet and reporter Noor Hindi, ‘I record. I interview. I document. I see // violence.’ Her debut collection, Dear God. Dear Bones. Dear Yellow., from Haymarket Books takes reporting into the realm of poetry, chronicling the unfolding of imperialist violence both outside and within the United States as she discusses immigration, colonialism, religion, and tradition. Hindi’s words are like lightning in the night sky, illuminating the dark with power and passion that can burn those in its path as she writes in support of Palestine, Arab womanhood and queerness against those who aim to harm or destroy them. She writes of the struggles of immigrants, being forced from their homes by acts of war into a country where they are met with violence and xenophobia, to realize ‘my tax dollars pay for the bombs that kill my people.’ This is a necessary and extraordinary collection with so much heart and intensity radiating from each page that makes this debut collection seem like Noor Hindi has always been the needed voice in the world of poetry.
‘We Too Are American We Too Are American We Too Are American We Too Are American We Too Are American We Too Are American We Too Are American We Too Are American…
…If I keep repeating it, will it render my family into existence? To Whom?
I want to believe language matters, that words create meaning, that a person can breathe a thing into existence.’
To exist, or to feel your existence invalidated by others, is a major theme in this collection. Noor Hindi has us witness the difficulties of obtaining citizenship with multiple poems taking place at US Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) office, has us witness white secretaries saying Palestine isn’t recognized and crossing it off official documents, has us witness the othering and invalidating that occurs everywhere from classrooms to even protests where a white woman calls her ‘fake news.’ She writes ‘I want people to stop asking if I love this country. No. Ask if it loves me.’ She talks of how long the process is, noting the immigration officer has a plaque noting his six years of service, the same amount of time it has taken her grandmother to be allowed to take her civics test. A particularly inventive poem—the title ‘In Which the White Woman on My Thesis Defense Asks Me about Witness’ pretty much explains it all—is written as a multiple choice test not unlike a civics exam in which she must answer and perform the labor of justifying her own experience and selfhood. All this while there is an ongoing genocide against Palestinians in Gaza.
‘I argue: I exist. Palestine exists. Undocumented immigrants exist. Muslims exist.
My desire to make this argument is rooted in America’s desire to erase me.’
Noor Hindi has such an incredible harness on language and uses it to maximum effect. She calls out those who need to be called out but also makes space for love. This collection moves between fervent and righteous anger to tenderness and hope, each poem plunging the reader into deep and textured emotions. The language isn’t enough,’ she says, however, and questions how we can simply talk about the evil realities of violence and colonialism and still be pushed back against by those made uncomfortable by it. ‘I’m supposed to be feeding them whatever is the opposite of guilt’, she writes, ‘I want to move beyond. Where?’ Perhaps the most impactful poem in the collection, one that hits to the roots of everything here, is Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People are Dying:
’Colonizers write about flowers.
I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks
seconds before becoming daisies.
I want to be like those poets who care about the moon.
Palestinians don’t see the moon from jail cells and prisons.
It’s so beautiful, the moon.
They’re so beautiful, the flowers.
I pick flowers for my dead father when I’m sad.
He watches Al Jazeera all day.
I wish Jessica would stop texting me Happy Ramadan.
I know I’m American because when I walk into a room something dies.
Metaphors about death are for poets who think ghosts care about sound.
When I die, I promise to haunt you forever.
One day, I’ll write about the flowers like we own them.’
We should be distributing this poem around like leaflets. It looks at the incongruities one would feel working in an artistic form where, yes, it is important to celebrate the beauty around us, but also recognizing that to focus solely on that is a privilege when there is so much violence and trauma beleaguering many others.
Dear God. Dear Bones. Dear Yellow. is a must-read collection that is filled with some unforgettable moments. There is the poem Dangerous Business where a poem about the first time using a tampon is interjected with statements about sexual assault and honor killings written in all-caps, Self-Portrait as Arab/Muslim Teenager in an All-White High School that bombards the reader with the racism faced that tries to be washed away when the abuser says ‘I’m joking’, and the extraordinary closing poem Pledging Allegiance. Noor Hindi has created something incredible here.
5/5
Ode
The night so warm I could fall in love
with anything
including myself. My loves, you are the only people
I’d surrender my softness to.
The moon is so blue. What’s gold
is gold. What’s real
is us despite
a country so grieved, so woke, so deathly.
Our gloom as loud as shells.
Listen. Even the ocean begs.
Put your hands in the sand, my friend.
It’s best we bury ourselves.
What’s heavy. What’s heavy?
Becomes light.
November 25, 2023
Colonizers write about flowers.
I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks
seconds before becoming daisies.
I want to be like those poets who care about the moon.
Palestinians don’t see the moon from jail cells and prisons.
(excerpt from Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying)
And still - I didn't even know any of this was happening. // Thank you for educating me. // Do you like living in America? // But what about those terrorists? // When you say Palestine, do you actually mean Pakistan?
What comes after awareness? And then what? And then what? There's a bird. No, it's a drone. My tax dollars pay for the bombs that kill my people.
(excerpt from Pledging Allegiance)
In light of the genocide that's occuring today, I urge everyone to listen to Palestinians and uplift Palestinian voices. Dear God. Dear Bones. Dear Yellow. by Noor Hindi is a beautifully political and harrowing collection of resistance poetry that eloquently addresses the intersectionality of colonisation, sexuality, feminism, immigration, and citizenship. I have to say, I'm not much of a poetry reader so I can't speak on the technical elements involved in writing poetry - however, I personally found Hindi's voice to be unrefined in the best way possible, unapologetically critical, and effective.
From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free 🤍🖤💚❤️🍉
September 11, 2022
Excerpts:
Colonizers write about flowers.
I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks
seconds before becoming daisies.
I want to be like those poets who care about the moon.
Palestinians don’t see the moon from jail cells and prisons.
It’s so beautiful, the moon.
They’re so beautiful, the flowers.
(from “Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying”)
—
We’ll wake up, Sunday morning, and read the paper. Read each other.
Become consumers
of each other’s stories—a desperate reaching
for another body’s warmth, its words buoying us through a world.
(from “Breaking [News]”)
—
I want my rage to elicit love and more love. I want people to stop asking if I love this country. No. Ask if it loves me.
(from “USCIS Trip #2: Violation”)
Colonizers write about flowers.
I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks
seconds before becoming daisies.
I want to be like those poets who care about the moon.
Palestinians don’t see the moon from jail cells and prisons.
It’s so beautiful, the moon.
They’re so beautiful, the flowers.
(from “Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying”)
—
We’ll wake up, Sunday morning, and read the paper. Read each other.
Become consumers
of each other’s stories—a desperate reaching
for another body’s warmth, its words buoying us through a world.
(from “Breaking [News]”)
—
I want my rage to elicit love and more love. I want people to stop asking if I love this country. No. Ask if it loves me.
(from “USCIS Trip #2: Violation”)
February 29, 2024
Beautiful poems about being a Palestinian-American woman. This writer is one to watch!
February 27, 2022
This book is full of heartache and pain and the numbness and anger that comes from feeling too much for entirely too long. It's important. It means nothing. It means everything.
It's incredible poetry, and that's all I can say about that without missing the point of the book entirely.
It's powerful poetry, the kind that'll knock you over if you're not expecting the feelings it invokes.
This isn't a light read. I can't recommend it highly enough for anyone who claims to be "educating themselves" or "focusing on diverse voices". Read it with an open heart, put yourself in the authors shoes, and for the love of all that's holy, think really hard about anything that causes you offense.
(i received a free copy of this book through edelweiss.plus)
It's incredible poetry, and that's all I can say about that without missing the point of the book entirely.
It's powerful poetry, the kind that'll knock you over if you're not expecting the feelings it invokes.
This isn't a light read. I can't recommend it highly enough for anyone who claims to be "educating themselves" or "focusing on diverse voices". Read it with an open heart, put yourself in the authors shoes, and for the love of all that's holy, think really hard about anything that causes you offense.
(i received a free copy of this book through edelweiss.plus)
February 7, 2024
Colonizers write about flowers,
I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks
seconds before becoming daisies.
I didn't rate a poetry collection with five stars for a few years now, but here we are! I mean, if we were getting technical, I guess this would be like 4,75 ⭐, but this was really great and I would wholeheartedly recommend it! As with most collections there were hits and there were misses, but I thought that even the poems that missed me were great.
Going into this, I didn't realise that Noor Hindi was Palestinian-American writer, but that definitely made the reading of this collection very timely. This is highly political poetry, so take care when picking it up. The poems in this collection deal with migration experience, colonialism, queerness, religion, racism and homesickness of a kind. I thought it was great, would recommend! Also, the cover! I ADORE the cover, really one of my favourites ever!
I can't believe this is Hindi's debut, definitely going to read more from her in the future if she publishes! Thank you @Ashley Marie, for the rec!
Favourite poems: Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People are Dying; Self-Portrait as Arab/Muslim Teenager in an All-White High School; A Question; Poem in Which My Mother Tells me Not to Get a Pap Smear Because It Might Tear My Nonexistent Hymen; I Call My Mother from the Moon and the whole USCIS trip cycle of poems was really touching and infuriating...
I Call My Mother from the Moon
I say Guess What?
I Made It
To the Moon. And
It's Stunning, And
I Miss You. And
You'd Love the View
From Up Here.
Men Don't Exist.
I can tell by the way
she pauses
she's worried. She asks
But How Will You
Bear Children
In A Place with No
Gravity? How
Am I To Find You
A Good Man
From Up There?
Get Down Here.
I Need to Teach You
How to Make
A Good Cake,
Your Future Son
Wil Be Beautiful
Like You.
Please, Come Down.
I Miss You.
I Taught You
To Be Quieter
Than This, Less
Hungry
For the World
So You Could Fit
Inside a World
Unfit for Women
Like Us.
There is air.
Until there isn't.
I've always wanted more
than the world
she gave me.
Up here, my eyes grow
larger. I bake a cake.
It floats away.
I wish she were here.
To catch it.
March 7, 2023
An incredible collection.
From Pledging Allegiance:
"I'm supposed to be feeding them whatever is the
opposite of guilt. I want to move beyond. Where?"
Also from Pledging Allegiance:
"What comes after awareness? And then what?
And then what? There's a bird. No, it's a drone. My
tax dollars pay for the bombs that kill my people."
From Pledging Allegiance:
"I'm supposed to be feeding them whatever is the
opposite of guilt. I want to move beyond. Where?"
Also from Pledging Allegiance:
"What comes after awareness? And then what?
And then what? There's a bird. No, it's a drone. My
tax dollars pay for the bombs that kill my people."
April 7, 2025
Absolutely the best book I’ve read this year. Devastating, passionate, written with exactitude and fury and focus.
January 20, 2024
Wonderful, sharp critical voice, soft light (Noor means light) edges, soulpiercing and angering, what else to say, what else, what now - free Palestine!
LE: I re-read it with M. and some favourites I keep re-reading from time to time, showing them to others, reading out loud at poetry and Palestine solidarity events. This volume is one of my favourite poetry collections I have ever read. Every verse and every word so well thought, clear as light, messy as blood, waving as salt sea water.
I admire how Noor Hindi speaks of her other profession, journalism and its cruel capitalist headliner/clickbaiting culture, how this feels from the perspective of the one reporting and creating stories, from the perspective of the creator whose people are the subjects and objects of the headlines: "I'm holding a lightning bug/ hostage in one hand, its light dimming in the warmth/ of my fist, and in the other, a pen, to document its death."
Noor Hindi writes about Palestinian lives in a liminal space moving across borders, literally and through memories of olive trees, houses stolen by Israeli settlers, pomegranate trees planted by ancestors and long lost to settlers. About Palestinian lives in America that treats immigrants as aliens, not just linguistically, America that kills the peoples of those immigrants: "I argue I exist. Palestine exists. Undocumented immigrants exist. Muslims exist./ My desire to make this argument is rooted in America's desire to erase me."
She also writes about colonialism, racism and islamophobia, about patriarchy and women, about the pressure one feels as a daughter of immigrants to become their dreams - and very importantly Noor Hindi has a lot of humour as well: "My father escaped war,/ and here I am, the perfect/ immigrant child. I assimilate so much/ I drink Diet Coke/ at the rate of a middle-aged/ white woman. My mother wanted/ to be a writer. I should hold/ her sacrifices but instead sob/ into a donate decorated like the US flag/ at 3 a.m."
Noor Hindi also exposes the reader to the devastating reality of Palestinians living under Israeli settler colonialism, while thinking about the way poetry is written, the way poetry writing has been thaught, the way canonic poetry has formed - oftentimes around the idea of metaphors. She exposes how metaphors are not working while speaking of colonial oppression, in the volume the idea of not using metaphors repeats a few times. One poem related to this topic has became a personal favourite - however I love the entire collection, every bit of it. "Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying" touched and spoke to me deeply, it expresses a poetical-political vision that I also embrace, and a grim reality so well put and so heartpiercing, that I carry this poem with me every day that I think of Palestine and the latest escalation of Israel's war against Gaza and the West Bank. With the queer-feminist literary group Cenaclul X we also translated this poem to Romanian, so if you read this and want a Romanian translation look up online the zine "Queerș pentru Palestine. Luări de poziție, eseuri și poeme".
To end with a quote from this poem: "Colonizers write about flowers./ I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks."
LE: I re-read it with M. and some favourites I keep re-reading from time to time, showing them to others, reading out loud at poetry and Palestine solidarity events. This volume is one of my favourite poetry collections I have ever read. Every verse and every word so well thought, clear as light, messy as blood, waving as salt sea water.
I admire how Noor Hindi speaks of her other profession, journalism and its cruel capitalist headliner/clickbaiting culture, how this feels from the perspective of the one reporting and creating stories, from the perspective of the creator whose people are the subjects and objects of the headlines: "I'm holding a lightning bug/ hostage in one hand, its light dimming in the warmth/ of my fist, and in the other, a pen, to document its death."
Noor Hindi writes about Palestinian lives in a liminal space moving across borders, literally and through memories of olive trees, houses stolen by Israeli settlers, pomegranate trees planted by ancestors and long lost to settlers. About Palestinian lives in America that treats immigrants as aliens, not just linguistically, America that kills the peoples of those immigrants: "I argue I exist. Palestine exists. Undocumented immigrants exist. Muslims exist./ My desire to make this argument is rooted in America's desire to erase me."
She also writes about colonialism, racism and islamophobia, about patriarchy and women, about the pressure one feels as a daughter of immigrants to become their dreams - and very importantly Noor Hindi has a lot of humour as well: "My father escaped war,/ and here I am, the perfect/ immigrant child. I assimilate so much/ I drink Diet Coke/ at the rate of a middle-aged/ white woman. My mother wanted/ to be a writer. I should hold/ her sacrifices but instead sob/ into a donate decorated like the US flag/ at 3 a.m."
Noor Hindi also exposes the reader to the devastating reality of Palestinians living under Israeli settler colonialism, while thinking about the way poetry is written, the way poetry writing has been thaught, the way canonic poetry has formed - oftentimes around the idea of metaphors. She exposes how metaphors are not working while speaking of colonial oppression, in the volume the idea of not using metaphors repeats a few times. One poem related to this topic has became a personal favourite - however I love the entire collection, every bit of it. "Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying" touched and spoke to me deeply, it expresses a poetical-political vision that I also embrace, and a grim reality so well put and so heartpiercing, that I carry this poem with me every day that I think of Palestine and the latest escalation of Israel's war against Gaza and the West Bank. With the queer-feminist literary group Cenaclul X we also translated this poem to Romanian, so if you read this and want a Romanian translation look up online the zine "Queerș pentru Palestine. Luări de poziție, eseuri și poeme".
To end with a quote from this poem: "Colonizers write about flowers./ I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks."
Read
February 5, 2024I read “Dear God. Dear Bones. Dear Yellow.” by Noor Hindi like one passes through a storm, intensely and hurried, and then I read it again with a close friend, N., slower, letting it simmer through us.
It is powerful, superbly formed, disruptive of anti-arab narratives, diagnosing the reporting, journalistic eye and critical of America and its immigration policy, of what is requested of women, of migrants, of Arabs. It’s composed of four parts, dealing broadly with Palestinian identity, living in the US, and Muslim womanhood from a feminist perspective, with the last part being a long poem “Pledging Allegiance”, which blends many of the books’ themes.
Full review here with some pics!
TLDR: I LOVED IT - READ IT!
It is powerful, superbly formed, disruptive of anti-arab narratives, diagnosing the reporting, journalistic eye and critical of America and its immigration policy, of what is requested of women, of migrants, of Arabs. It’s composed of four parts, dealing broadly with Palestinian identity, living in the US, and Muslim womanhood from a feminist perspective, with the last part being a long poem “Pledging Allegiance”, which blends many of the books’ themes.
Full review here with some pics!
TLDR: I LOVED IT - READ IT!
October 28, 2023
heartbreakingly beautiful
March 9, 2025
I'm really terrible with reviewing poetry, but I really loved this! It felt sharp, vulnerable, exasperated, righteously angry, very political and full of yearning (And light!). Also, poetry about menstruation bloody rules!!!
I tried and tried to love. That summer,
I was little and terrified of God, my lust hanging
from the roots of my hair.
What did I know of the thirst
that moved at the speed
of fingers exploring a body
I wanted to be mine?
I tried and tried to love. That summer,
I was little and terrified of God, my lust hanging
from the roots of my hair.
What did I know of the thirst
that moved at the speed
of fingers exploring a body
I wanted to be mine?
Read
February 2, 2024“Colonizers write about flowers.
I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks
seconds before becoming daisies.
I want to be like those poets who care about the moon.
Palestinians don’t see the moon from jail cells and prisons.
It’s so beautiful, the moon.
They’re so beautiful, the flowers.
[…]
I know I’m American because when I walk into a room something dies.
Metaphors about death are for poets who think ghosts care about sound.
When I die, I promise to haunt you forever.
One day, I’ll write about the flowers like we own them.”
“My desire
to fix this window is corrupt.
Your desire
to call your looking through this window
an act of social justice is corrupt.”
“I argue: I exist. Palestine exists. Undocumented immigrants exist. Muslims exist.
My desire to make this argument is rooted in America’s desire to erase me.”
“The breakfast table is my family’s connection to Palestine, to home, to Jordan. Eating is sacred—dipping pita bread into olive oil, an act of love.
Saturday mornings, you’ll find pita bread atop the stove, my mother’s hands flipping each loaf above the flames, her warmth filling us.
The homeland is stuck in our teeth. It’s filling our cavities. It rests on our tongues. My God. How we yearn for its olive trees. How it haunts our dreams.”
Only liked the ones about Palestine.
I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks
seconds before becoming daisies.
I want to be like those poets who care about the moon.
Palestinians don’t see the moon from jail cells and prisons.
It’s so beautiful, the moon.
They’re so beautiful, the flowers.
[…]
I know I’m American because when I walk into a room something dies.
Metaphors about death are for poets who think ghosts care about sound.
When I die, I promise to haunt you forever.
One day, I’ll write about the flowers like we own them.”
“My desire
to fix this window is corrupt.
Your desire
to call your looking through this window
an act of social justice is corrupt.”
“I argue: I exist. Palestine exists. Undocumented immigrants exist. Muslims exist.
My desire to make this argument is rooted in America’s desire to erase me.”
“The breakfast table is my family’s connection to Palestine, to home, to Jordan. Eating is sacred—dipping pita bread into olive oil, an act of love.
Saturday mornings, you’ll find pita bread atop the stove, my mother’s hands flipping each loaf above the flames, her warmth filling us.
The homeland is stuck in our teeth. It’s filling our cavities. It rests on our tongues. My God. How we yearn for its olive trees. How it haunts our dreams.”
Only liked the ones about Palestine.
January 8, 2024
Wow. Such a powerful voice, and as a Palestinian American who’s family lives in Jordan I felt so seen. Religiously, I didn’t quite relate to a lot of the poems because Noor relationship with Islam is very different. I’m not going to lie, a lot of the poems scared me because the thought of a non Muslim reading them and becoming more islamaphobic from them is very real. A lot of cultural taboos leaked onto religious practices, and a non Muslim wouldn’t be able to separate the two. Also parts of it felt disrespectful to Islam 😭 I didn’t remove any stars because of this though, because it’s nothing to do with the poems themselves, just my own personal biases, and I understand the author comes from a different place.
March 9, 2024
Everyone needs to read this book. Each poem in this feels like a gut-punch. It makes you squirm in your seat. It makes you think. It makes you uncomfortable. Sit with those feelings and remember.
Free Palestine until Palestine is free.
Sharing one of my favorite out of these poems:
Review written on 10th March, 2024
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DISCLAIMER-All opinions on books I’ve read and reviewed are my own, and are with no intention to offend anyone. If you feel offended by my reviews, let me know how I can fix it.
How I Rate-
1 star- Hardly liked anything/was disappointed
2 star- Had potential but did not deliver/was disappointed
3 stars- Was ok but could have been better/was average/Enjoyed a lot but something was missing
4 stars- Loved a lot but something was missing
5 stars- Loved it/new favourite
Free Palestine until Palestine is free.
Sharing one of my favorite out of these poems:
Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying
Colonizers write about flowers.
I tell you about children throwing rocks at Israeli tanks seconds before becoming daisies.
I want to be like those poets who care about the moon.
Palestinians don’t see the moon from jail cells and prisons.
It’s so beautiful, the moon. They’re so beautiful, the flowers.
I pick flowers for my dead father when I’m sad.
He watches Al Jazeera all day.
I wish Jessica would stop texting me Happy Ramadan.
I know I’m American because when I walk into a room something dies.
Metaphors about death are for poets who think ghosts care about sound.
When I die, I promise to haunt you forever.
One day, I’ll write about the flowers like we own them.
Review written on 10th March, 2024
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DISCLAIMER-All opinions on books I’ve read and reviewed are my own, and are with no intention to offend anyone. If you feel offended by my reviews, let me know how I can fix it.
How I Rate-
1 star- Hardly liked anything/was disappointed
2 star- Had potential but did not deliver/was disappointed
3 stars- Was ok but could have been better/was average/Enjoyed a lot but something was missing
4 stars- Loved a lot but something was missing
5 stars- Loved it/new favourite
August 13, 2024
Sealey Challenge 2024: 3/31
This was my first time reading Noor Hindi's work, but it certainly won't be my last! I really enjoyed these poems and found that not only were they timely but deeply empathetic and passionate. This is a collection I can easily see myself re-reading!
This was my first time reading Noor Hindi's work, but it certainly won't be my last! I really enjoyed these poems and found that not only were they timely but deeply empathetic and passionate. This is a collection I can easily see myself re-reading!
May 10, 2023
either i’m in the twilight zone or i’m even more of a poetry snob than i always assumed
Read
August 15, 2025Fave poems: F*ck your lecture on craft my people are dying, Broken light bulb flickering away, Dangerous business, I call my mother from the moon, The shell of a cactus fruit
January 17, 2024
there's something about experiences like the one i just had in DC that remind me how much beauty and success there is in palestinian art and how we have to uplift what's out there and create more - goodreads recommended me this poetry book based on my palestine shelf and i really enjoyed it. there were more than a few poems that i've actually seen have their moment on tiktok and twitter so we need to start crediting the authors behind them!!!!! i'd never heard of noor hindi but i do feel connected bc her name is noor and now i have to keep up with her work
some of the lines i bookmarked (i bookmarked a lot for such a short collection of poems):
* and what does it mean to witness yourself, on telivision dying?
* i know i'm american because when i walk into a room something dies.
* i assimilate so much i drink diet coke at the rate of a middle-aged white woman.
* he makes my mother laugh. he reminds her of home.
some of the lines i bookmarked (i bookmarked a lot for such a short collection of poems):
* and what does it mean to witness yourself, on telivision dying?
* i know i'm american because when i walk into a room something dies.
* i assimilate so much i drink diet coke at the rate of a middle-aged white woman.
* he makes my mother laugh. he reminds her of home.
April 17, 2023
really liked this one. moon, flowers, colonization
November 19, 2023
once again urging everyone to read books written by Palestinian authors.
while this book didn’t have the affect on me that Rifqa (a palestinian poetry collection i just finished) had, this collection had discussions of topics very personal to me such as being the daughter of immigrants/refugees of war which always means the world to me.
My tax dollars pay for the bombs that kill my people.
You pleasure that which makes us fiction // while staring // into our graved eyes.
My father escaped war, and here I am, the perfect immigrant child.
“The homeland is stuck in our teeth. It’s filling our cavities. It rests on our tongues.
while this book didn’t have the affect on me that Rifqa (a palestinian poetry collection i just finished) had, this collection had discussions of topics very personal to me such as being the daughter of immigrants/refugees of war which always means the world to me.
My tax dollars pay for the bombs that kill my people.
You pleasure that which makes us fiction // while staring // into our graved eyes.
My father escaped war, and here I am, the perfect immigrant child.
“The homeland is stuck in our teeth. It’s filling our cavities. It rests on our tongues.
July 28, 2025
I'm sure this book is charged with a lot of personal and raw emotions. It's yet this thing with modern poetry that I can't ever seem to enjoy. The structure, the flow, the rhythm are all weak and I felt disconnected from what I was reading most of the time. it's not for me.
August 14, 2025
"Metaphors about death are for poets who think ghosts care about sound. When I die, I promise to haunt you forever. One day, I'll write about the flowers like we own them."
🌙🍉⚡️
An electrifying collection on colonialism, identity, and revolution. Pulsing with rage and power, each poem is an account of violence, faith, language, and the countless ghosts of oppression, injustice, of those forcibly silenced, with so much of the world weaponizing ignorance, stagnation, the privilege of choosing battles. This collection, as vulnerable as it is powerful, demands to be seen, heard, and leaves ripples of hard truths. A must-read, not just for its beauty, but for its voice, uplifting, carrying a torch of the past while fearlessly advocating for not only a liberated future, but for freedom that does not wait, does not fall to the powers that be.
🌙🍉⚡️
An electrifying collection on colonialism, identity, and revolution. Pulsing with rage and power, each poem is an account of violence, faith, language, and the countless ghosts of oppression, injustice, of those forcibly silenced, with so much of the world weaponizing ignorance, stagnation, the privilege of choosing battles. This collection, as vulnerable as it is powerful, demands to be seen, heard, and leaves ripples of hard truths. A must-read, not just for its beauty, but for its voice, uplifting, carrying a torch of the past while fearlessly advocating for not only a liberated future, but for freedom that does not wait, does not fall to the powers that be.
February 1, 2023
4.5/5*
A brilliant collection of provocative poetry that draws from everyday aspects of immigrant life in the US. Hindi masterfully confronts and reframes her experiences with social and cultural hypocrisies with the most poignant use of language:
A brilliant collection of provocative poetry that draws from everyday aspects of immigrant life in the US. Hindi masterfully confronts and reframes her experiences with social and cultural hypocrisies with the most poignant use of language:
I want to apologize on behalf of all children
of refugees. We leave our shoes on the doors of America
and come back to find them bleeding. (p. 24)
March 29, 2022
ARC given by Edelweiss+ for Honest Review
Beautifully written, deeply moving, and incredibly powerful.
Hindi speaks on the intersection of feminism, tradition, colonialism, and immigration.
My favorite poems are: "All My Plants Are Dead", "I Should Have Broken Up With My Ex", and "Pledging Allegiance."
Beautifully written, deeply moving, and incredibly powerful.
Hindi speaks on the intersection of feminism, tradition, colonialism, and immigration.
My favorite poems are: "All My Plants Are Dead", "I Should Have Broken Up With My Ex", and "Pledging Allegiance."
March 28, 2023
my god this was phenomenal
January 16, 2024
Free Palestine.
May 30, 2024
I can’t believe “Dear God, Dear Bones, Dear Yellow” is Noor Hindi’s debut. It is one of the most heartbreaking, sharp, and meaningful poetry collections I’ve ever read. Hindi explores a variety of themes like alienation, grief, anger, and guilt and her words hurt exactly where they’re supposed to. Tarfia Faizullah said that Hindi is “armed with a journalist’s heart and a poet’s mind” and I couldn’t agree more. Her poetry is not just beautiful, it’s political, powerful and more important than ever.
My favorite poems of this collection are:
Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying
Palestine
A Day, A Life: When a Medic Was Killed in Gaza, Was It an Accident?
A Chaos of Semantics
Dangerous Business
I Call My Mother From the Moon
Ode
My favorite poems of this collection are:
Fuck Your Lecture on Craft, My People Are Dying
Palestine
A Day, A Life: When a Medic Was Killed in Gaza, Was It an Accident?
A Chaos of Semantics
Dangerous Business
I Call My Mother From the Moon
Ode
December 15, 2024
Dear God. Dear Bones. Dear Yellow. is a stunning collection of poetry about Palestinian identity, immigration, womanhood, virginity and purity culture, religion, complex relationships, colonisation, and more. It's a fairly short poetry collection (under ninety pages), but it packs a powerful punch. Noor Hindi is an incredibly talented poet who brings these difficult subjects to life, combining rage with beauty, tragedy with resilience. The multiple poems titled "Breaking [News]" and the multiple poems titled "USCIS Trip" were among my absolute favourites in this collection, but there were so many I loved that it's hard to narrow it down. I hope to reread this one, and I hope to read more from the poet in the future. I highly recommend it.
November 29, 2023
A powerful political poetry collection that through blurring the lines between poetry and journalism explores the contrasts and complexities of being a queer Palestinian-American woman living in the US.
#FreePalestine
#FreePalestine
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