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Raya Tuffaha
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Born
in Seattle, The United States
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November 2018
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To All the Yellow Flowers
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apocalypse blues
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“To begin is no more agony than opening your hand.”
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“. . . to walk alone in London is the greatest rest.”
Virginia Woolf |
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“Here's to the path back home / we left in the mud / may we never walk it alone / again.”
― To All the Yellow Flowers
― To All the Yellow Flowers
“In which language does "liberation" sound better? / In Arabic, tahrir, / or in English, rebirth?”
― To All the Yellow Flowers
― To All the Yellow Flowers
“In Chinese class we learn every character / has its own history, so in other words, / in class we learn language makes itself / alive, so in other words, / I know my history is alive every time I speak.”
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“I enjoy almost everything. Yet I have some restless searcher in me. Why is there not a discovery in life? Something one can lay hands on and say “This is it”? My depression is a harassed feeling. I’m looking: but that’s not it — that’s not it. What is it? And shall I die before I find it?”
― A Writer's Diary
― A Writer's Diary
“Where can I free myself of the homeland in my body?”
― Unfortunately, It Was Paradise: Selected Poems
― Unfortunately, It Was Paradise: Selected Poems
“they asked "do you love her to death?"
i said "speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life”
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i said "speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life”
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“This is what it is to love an artist: The moon is always rising above your house. The houses of your neighbors look dull and lacking in moonlight. But he is always going away from you. Inside his head there is always something more beautiful.”
― Eurydice
― Eurydice
“I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free. (...) I want, I think, to be omniscient… I think I would like to call myself "The girl who wanted to be God." Yet if I were not in this body, where would I be—perhaps I am destined to be classified and qualified. But, oh, I cry out against it. I am I—I am powerful—but to what extent? I am I.”
― Letters Home
― Letters Home
