Zeina Azzam
Poems
Like the Trees in Alexandria
The soil we stand on is packed
with the history of growth, the biology
of perseverance—as fertile and deep
as our affinities to each other.
This is where we start.
It took us thousands of years
to understand the community of trees
in a forest, to listen to the way roots intertwine,
communicate in safety underground.
This is our language, too—
of carbon and nitrogen and phosphorus
as we construct infinite, unseen pathways
to share nutrients and water, stories
and poetry and songs.
These are our common roots.
We are the trees of the forest, leafy
and floral, coniferous, with flashy crowns
or simple beauty. So many shades
of green and brown. Hues of loveliness.
This diversity is our touchstone.
Cypress, juniper, and palm, jasmine
and jacaranda, many have traveled the world
as flying seeds to land and re-gather
and celebrate our homecoming.
This is who we are.
Our root systems teach us to behave as a single
organism, to uplift all branches, young and old,
she and he and they, watering and nourishing
each other, safeguarding saplings against injustice.
This is our present and our legacy.
We are the trees in Alexandria’s forest.
(this poem was read at the city of Alexandria’s 273rd birthday party by the river. Reprinted courtesy of Office of the Arts, https://www.alexandriava.gov/recreation-programs/literary-programs)
Nine Spice Mix
This spice mix is featured in many of the dishes in this book, lending them a uniquely Palestinian flavor.
—Reem Kassis, The Palestinian Table
First they tango on my tongue,
nimble couples careening,
then together
form an Arab-style line dance
stepping, stomping, swaying.
West Indies allspice dazzles,
berries tangling with cinnamon sticks,
while cloves, Indonesian natives,
lead with a spirited solidarity solo.
Coriander seeds offer greetings in Hindi
as others toast comrades in languages
beyond borders and blockades.
Lifting up sisterhood, sun-wizened nutmeg
starts a sibling dance with mace.
Cumin demurs, then surprises
with subtle exultation.
Queen of spices cardamom,
host of the party, gives a nod to flavors
in hiding: lemony, sweet, warm,
fragrant, nutty, pungent, hot.
Encouraged, feisty black peppercorns
shimmy center stage, organizing
the unique union of nine
for a vivacious global salute.
(Originally published in Poem-a-Day on April 7, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.)
Leaving My Childhood Home
On our last day in Beirut
with my ten years packed in a suitcase,
my best friend asked for a keepsake.
I found a little tin box
to give her, emptied of lemon drops,
that would hold memories of our childhood:
us swinging in the dusty school yard,
rooftop hide and seek,
wispy-sweet jasmine, kilos
of summertime figs, King
of Falafel’s tahini-bathed sandwiches,
our pastel autograph books.
All those remembrances
crammed in that box,
tiny storytellers waiting to speak.
Later her family would uproot too,
transplant like surly Palestinian weeds
pulled every few years.
We all knew about this,
even the kids.
I never saw her again
but know that she also
learned to travel lightly,
hauling empty boxes
pulsing with kilos
of memories.
(Originally published in 2016 by Split This Rock.)
Zeina Azzam is a Palestinian American poet, writer, editor, and community activist. She is the poet laureate of the City of Alexandria, Virginia, for 2022-25. Her poems appear in Pleiades, Mizna, Sukoon, Gyroscope, Passager, Barzakh, Bettering American Poetry, Making Mirrors: Writing/Righting by and for Refugees, Making Levantine Cuisine: Modern Foodways of the Eastern Mediterranean, and Gaza Unsilenced, among others. Zeina is a mentor for We Are Not Numbers, a writing program for youth in Gaza. Her chapbook, Bayna Bayna, In-Between, was published in 2021 by The Poetry Box. She holds an M.A. in Arabic literature from Georgetown University.
Website: zeinaazzam.com
Twitter: @zeina3azzam
