After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.

(via bookoisseur)

I’m really glad I read that.

(via selfesteampunk)

I have read this before but it is still marvelous.

(via ursulavernon)
Posted September 02nd and with 225,448 notes - via / source - reblog

"What I know is, we stay here, we die here."
"And what's waiting in Zenith? The playground is under surveillance. You were interrogated, beaten."
"That's because they wanted the egg. So I say this, let's give it to 'em."

th3ic3qu33n:

lookpoorthinkrich:

haramasfuck:

What really saddens me is that this has become so popular. Look past the ignorance of the white man, look past the disrespect and look past the misconception.

This is the true beauty of Afghanistan, my home country.

These are only some examples of the true beauty of Afghanistan. What you see above is simply the result of the western imperialism, western intervention in places that the west has no right to be.

A message to the (mostly US) outside forces “working” to better a country whose destruction is significantly at the hands of those who are “helping” it: get out. 

Always reblog

Love my country.

Posted September 02nd and with 652,863 notes - via / source - reblog

"We met because of the Dome and we never really talked about you and me... out in the world."
"Julia. Hey. I want you in my life, whether we end up in Zenith or... wherever. That's a promise that I can keep."

Posted September 02nd and with 107 notes - via / - reblog
Filed under: #LEAVE ME TO DIE

I need next week’s promo right now

Posted September 02nd and with 3 notes - reblog
Filed under: #under the dome

fromthemiddleoftheocean:

"Julia, hey. I want you in my life, whether we end up in Zenith or wherever. That’s a promise that I can keep."

image

image

Posted September 02nd and with 35 notes - via / - reblog

Guh! Jarbie you idiots! I dare you to be more perfect! You’ve already ruined my life ten times over!

That’s for if things get really hardcore. Or if you wanna blow up moons. No one’s blowing up moons. You just wanna suck the joy out of everything.

Posted August 31st and with 7,834 notes - via / source - reblog

when you are driving back from a long road trip or a long tiring weekend and you look at your rear view mirror and everyone else in the car is fast asleep, their windows open and the wind blowing, and you are stuck being the designated driver.

Posted August 31st and with 1 note - reblog
Filed under: #road trip#driving#designated driver#sleep
Posted August 30th and with 427 notes - via / source - reblog

wtf?

He’s praying for her.

She’s praying for him.

Little do they know, Allah sealed their fate with each other before they were even born.

Posted August 30th and with 4,214 notes - via / source - reblog

sset-in-stone:

The only thing I have an issue with in our line up is Young still being there, I mean unless Januzaj isn’t ready to be played as a wing back yet there’s no excuse???

WF