Craft Essay: “Allow Me To Speak My Palestinian Tongue” by Noor Shami

Allow Me To Speak My Palestinian Tongue 

1. In Jordan, I’m my father’s daughter. At home, I’m the youngest sister of two, battling who the more favored child happens to be that day. To my father, I’m his precious princess with an eager soul to learn new things every day. To my mother, I’m her angelic baby who needs to be caressed. To my sister, I’m quite frankly annoying.

To be born Arab is to [ ].

2. I started to write poetry as an escape from my ultimate fear that no one would hear me.

What if all I get back is silence?

3. Poetry is August 24, 2002 in Farah Hospital on Rainbow Street at 5:44 p.m.

Poetry is an olive tree — wisdom, fertility, prosperity — following life then death and everything in between.

4. Throughout high school, I was handed C minuses and D pluses for writing and reading. Google wasn’t able to keep up with my searches: “What does ‘synthetic’ mean?” “Is it ‘their,’ ‘there,’ or ‘they’re’?”

To use similes — “How do you use similes in a story?”
…as if poetry isn’t metaphors on top of metaphors.

5. Why is reading poetry so fucking hard?

Poetry is defined as:

1 a : metrical writing : VERSE
b : the productions of a poet : POEMS

2 : writing that formulates a concentrated imaginative awareness of experience in language chosen and arranged to create a specific emotional response through meaning, sound, and rhythm

3 a : something likened to poetry especially in beauty of expression
B : poetic quality or aspect
the poetry of dance

These definitions are not helpful to me because they do not explain how to understand or write poetry.

If I’m reading a poem, the words, separately, are easily defined. Thank you, Google.

However, when the words of a poem are placed together, I get lost within lines and stanzas. At some point, I can see how they become lyrically harmonious. But I fear this is still a language that I can’t speak.

6. Sometimes I wish I was a good cook:

● 4 tsp of baharat — it’s Maqluba.
● 1 cup of slivered almonds —it’s Hashweh.
● 10 cups of jammed —it’s Mansaf.
● So many onions — it’s Msakhan
● Sesame seeds and more sesame seeds —it’s Ka’ak Al Quds

Sometimes I wish I was a good musician: I’d watch video tutorials on how to use my vibrato but my ears would hurt before I figure it out.

Sometimes I wish I was a good graphic designer: I’d play around with Photoshop to compose a playbill. But it would crash before I hit save.

So [ ] — poetry.

7. I’m a poet because my notes app is infested by pages of unfinished poems begging to be written.
Our neighborhood looks peaceful — taller in another dimension

8. I’m scared of not being worthy of love, so I write. I’m scared of being alone, so I write. I’m scared of losing another loved one, so I write. I’m scared of allowing myself to love unconditionally, so I write. I’m pretty bad at lots of things, so I write.

So I write to feel the ground beneath my feet, to hear the children laugh their silence, to hang onto the permanence.

9. My first and last name is hard to pronounce for the average American in this country. I’ve gotten Noor like Door. Nora with an “a” somehow. Newer like I’m shiny. Nur, I’m not sure where this one came from. My last name Shame-e like they tell me to be shameful of being an Arab in America. Shaami like they are getting their tonsils checked by a doctor.

I could start turning this into a sonnet. Note that near perfect ten-syllables per line:

My first and last name is hard to pronounce
for the average American in this country.
I’ve gotten Noor like Door. Nora with
an “a” somehow. Newer like I’m shiny
Nur, I’m not sure where this one came from.
My last name Shame-e like they tell me to
be shameful of being an Arab in
America. Shaami like they are getting
their tonsils checked by a doctor

10. Poetry because poetry is poetry. Just like Noor Shami is Noor Shami.



Poetry because poetry is poetry.
Just like Noor Shami is Noor Shami.

11. After years of writing poetry, I’ve come to realize that I love Italian.

The Vesper of poetry — the volta.

“Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame” Shakespeare’s Sonnet 129 doesn’t do the Vesper justice.

So, I write.

12. I write to itch the part of my brain that has been neglected by mama and baba. I write to metaphorically scream at the racial slurs that course through my body by the ignorant. I write to question my fears that carve through my brain. I write because I’m a poet.

About Noor Shami

Noor Shami was born in Jordan. In the past two years, she has mastered the art of cooking. Having a dim light in the kitchen and smelling the aromatics, is one of her many pleasures. She plays music @noorshamimusic.