Be brave, my friend,
and fold your sorrow
as a cloud folds the sun’s eye
with the lightness of indifference.
Be brave, my heart,
and swallow the sigh
fighting in your depths,
as a mother folds the clothes
of a son who fights
so he won’t return to his own captivity.
Be brave, my hand,
and turn the page,
as a farmer turns
the heart of the earth
with his plow in patience.
Be brave, O flute,
and open new windows
within your slender body
the fog here is too thick.
And if you must walk through darkness,
walk barefoot.
Let your skin remember
the path your ancestors carved in silence.
Touch the thorns as if they were stars.
Call your name
as if it were a bird that flew too far
and needs your voice to return.
Be brave, even when bravery
is only a whisper
inside a trembling lung.
Marwa Abu Raida is a Palestinian writer and honorary mention recipient from State of Art(ist). Her work explores themes of exile, identity, and inner revolution through hybrid poetic prose. Currently based in Cairo, she writes between worlds.
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