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Quote by Louis Yako

“What does it mean when language becomes the only 'home' to inhabit when all else is lost for displaced and exiled writers (and people)?”

Quote by Louis Yako

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Louis Yako

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“The Meaning of 'Home' As I travel from one city to another From one country to another From one sorrow to another, I encounter thousands of faces: In streets, shops, parks, and cafés. They all ask me the same painful question: 'Where are you from?' As if they know, I am from a place that lost itself and lost me On a long, cold, and sad winter night. They ask me: 'What is your country known for?' I tell them: 'My country is known for exporting sad stories, refugees, and displaced people. All those who were cursed by being born in it.' Similar questions continue to be asked in cocktail parties, In hypocritical and mediocre gatherings, In conferences and boring meetings. Some pretentiously ask me: 'How do you define "home"?' I respond with Ghassan Knafani’s words ringing in my ears: 'Home is for all of this not to happen.' April 19, 2014”

InspirationalHomeWisdomPoetryCreativityExileAlienationArabic Literature
Book:أنا زهرة برية [I am a Wildflower]
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“Sometimes you have to leave to discover that you left everything you needed back home. Is our life back home perfect? Hell no. But I have finally learned that I am not going to be perfectly happy anywhere. If I live by the water, I will miss the suburbs. If I live in the mountains, I will miss the water. If I watch House Hunters International, I will miss Costa Rica. And I’ve never even been to Costa Rica.”

HomeHappinessPerfectionGlennon Doyle MeltonCarry On Warrior
Book:Carry On, Warrior: Thoughts on Life Unarmed
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“The Cats in the City Location: an Arab city. Time: the age of defeat. The twenty-first century. General atmosphere: “fancy” neighborhoods. Expensive houses painted in tombstone colors. Beautiful and well-maintained gardens. Flowers that no one dares to smell. Imported cars. Imported devices. Imported clothes. Imported foods. Endless consumer shops for anything and everything. Between every other restaurant, there are shops selling cosmetics and souvenirs. Between every other consumer market, There is a worship place. All consumer shops are built skillfully On the scab of the same old wound; A wound that can flood the city with blood and death With the slightest fingernail scratch. As I walk farther from the city, The consumer shops vanish. The lights are suddenly dimmed. The cheering and the hustle and bustle of the consumers go silent. I see myself in total darkness. I am alone hearing nothing but the sounds of my footsteps, And the meows of hungry stray street cats, Covered with the ashes of daily existence. A thin and hungry cat approaches me, She meows in despair and starvation, Begging me for her bite of the day (or the week?) I throw her a small piece of my sandwich. She picks it up and runs away To celebrate her temporary gains! She leaves me alone wondering in darkness: What reflects the reality of this city more The 'fancy' neighborhoods I saw earlier, Or the starving cats in the darkness? June 8, 2014”

HomePoetryCatsArabic PoetryAppearancesWorld Literature
Book:أنا زهرة برية [I am a Wildflower]
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