Read Poem: Lebnan Ya Watani (My Country, Lebanon), by Sabine

Entering home, the strong smell of tabbouleh and handpicked mint, my grandma’s voice,

deep and soothing. Concerns about corruption and cancer were voiced.

My home country that I have never visited before feels familiar, my mother tongue, spoken in every corner of the city, we walk on our ancestors’ land, hand in hand.

Strangers drinking tea, as if they knew each other for years. That is the country I have grown up to love blindly. Regardless of dirty streets.

We drove to ancient ruins and visited salted water. My teta’s tired and veiny legs, covered by her long abaya, designed with burgundy-colored beads.

Her smile, heavy and firm, carried a thousand stories. I keep a picture with me of the cake she made us. The oud and derbakkah’s music carry her voice.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest