
Talah Abu Rahmeh is a Palestinian poet and writer. Originally from Yaffa, she was born in Amman in 1984 and moved to Ramallah ten years later. After graduating from Birzeit University with a degree in English, she pursued an MFA (Master's in Fine Arts) degree in Creative Writing at American University in Washington D.C. In May 2009, she received the Myra Sklarew Award in Poetry for her capstone thesis in creative writing. The award is given by the MFA faculty at American University each year to the graduating MFA students with the most original prose and poetry theses.
Some of you might recall Palestinian-American poet Suhair Hammad's visit to AAUJ last year during the Palestinian Literature Festival (PALFEST). You might be interested to know that she has won the 2009 American Book Award for Breaking Poems, published by Cypher Books.
The following poem by Talah Abu Rahmeh is featured in the upcoming anthology 25 Under 25, which is edited by Naomi Shihab Nye, a Palestinian-American poet and writer. Read the poem and then write a paragraph explicating the poem (that means explaining, interpreting and analyzing it). Here are some questions to help you do that:
1) Who is the speaker?
2) What is the speaker reflecting on?
3) What settings, emotions and values emerge in the poem?
4) In what world is the speaker more comfortable?
5) How do you know any of the above?
If Talah Abu Rahmeh were to add one or two lines to the poem at the end, what do you think she would say?
Upon Arrival
I don't know anymore,
What if I love it more, over there?
What's not to love over here?
Mama says there is nothing like home
Everyone knows you and even if they don't
They still impose.
I used to say take me home
Where everybody can pronounce my name,
roll it off the tongue like sugar, take me
Home.
I shake hands of relatives
I never liked
"Yes, of course I will come back to the country.
If we, the educated, don't come back
Who will?"
I want to scream:
I'm getting too used to having
A dignity. I'm getting used to not crossing
Checkpoints, I'm getting used to staying out
Late without the fear of a tank barging in, I'm getting
used to crying, over little things, like the bus is late,
or the milk has run out.
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