“
A Sweet Woman from a War-Torn Country”
In her exile, they often describe her as that ‘sweet woman from a war-torn country.’
They don’t know she loved smelling roses, picking spring wildflowers, and bringing them home after long walks.
They don’t know about the first kiss her lover stole during a church power outage on that Easter evening— before the generators came on.
They don’t know the long hours she spent under the ancient walnut tree in her village, waiting for her grandfather’s call to
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”
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“
Sorrow in the Heart of an Apple”
I tidied my old sorrow, wrapped it gently in scented cloth, and buried it beneath the apple tree in our village orchard.
Seasons rolled by... And I believed it was finished, forgotten, even the burial site lost to memory.
Then came harvest.
I plucked a red apple— shiny, luscious, radiant with promise.
But with the first bite, I tasted it.
That same sorrow, aged but unmistakable.
It had not only survived— it had multiplied.
Now here I am, face to face again
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”
― سرطان في كل مكان [Cancer Everywhere]
― سرطان في كل مكان [Cancer Everywhere]