We Are More: Two Poems
I’ll keep at it until something in me leaks
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We Are More
We Are More: jagadakir, as in fate
i cannot get myself to stay / for the moonrise of anything’s day.
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We Are More: I Can’t Tell
It’s February 1991, and I can’t tell you where the Middle East is on a map, or why it’s called the Middle East. But my family eats Syrian bread with every meal (I can’t tell you the difference between Syrian bread and pita, but I know they’re not the same).
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We Are More: The Bad Ones
“My father says he’s sorry about the noise, but he wants you to know that we wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for 1953 and the American overthrow of Iran’s democracy.”
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From the Archive: We Are More: New Country, Old Bones
What did you hope to build in the / New country?
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We Are More: Tehranto
I can’t recall a single time that my father has told me about his journey through the mountains . . . It was just something that I picked up, some truth that I have always carried.
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We Are More: Two Poems by Noor Khashe Brody
Ghazal: A Letter Of eight children, Mamani named you after sunlight. Since I changed my name, you try harder to tread light. Two decades ago you were Mama. But now […]
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We Are More: BLESSINGS FOR QUEEN DESIDERIA
I started to feel drowsy from the post-iftar food coma, the still air in the room, and the melancholic rhythm of the preacher’s recitation. I tried reading the Farsi subtitles to stay focused, but my eyes were tearing yawn after yawn.
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Call for Submissions: We Are More
Now reading submissions for our WE ARE MORE column.
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We Are More: Two Poems by Sara Elkamel
Before I loved you, the figs were still in season. / My body was a lone fig swollen like summer. / My body was a lonely fig swollen like summer, / In every dream as bottomless as shame.
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WE ARE MORE: Sustenance
How does one navigate the in-between?
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We Are More: Two Poems by Tina Ehsanipour
No human attempt / to erase [pain] is successful
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We Are More: Shattering the Ethnic Monolith Myth in The Gimmicks
To say the past is in the past ignores the abundant ways it controls their lived experience.
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We Are More: Three Poems by Summer Farah
The world is ending. I am still afraid of everything I was yesterday.
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We Are More: Show Me Your Teeth
Despite growing up in a predominately white suburb, my family never had a white dentist.
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Call for Submissions: New Rumpus Series for SWANA Writers
We Are More is a new Rumpus column written by and for the SWANA community
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We Are More: The Docent and the Novelist
I’ve been explaining the Armenian Genocide all my life.
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