ive been trying to get into poetry lately and have decided that even though i 'dont get' a good deal of it, most of it is beautiful and i can appreciate the language and what the poet is trying to get across. however, rarely have i read something, prose or poetry, that took my breath away so completely. there is something altogether different reading news and history of palestine and the nakba, and reading the devastation through the words of a poet. the raw feeling of knowing you can never go back, that you wont go back, that there is no return and you dont even want to go back because its not yours anymore and youre angry and furious and none of this is fucking fair but make sure your daughter likes the house my entire lineage grew up in. there is a distinct sorrow and anger there, combined with a uniquely palestinian desert imagery that kept coming up, illustrating the scene. heres what was lost. heres my home. heres no longer my home. why did you leave the horse alone? to keep the house company. houses die when their inhabitants are gone.