Lena Khalaf Tuffaha's debut, Water & Salt, sings in the voices of people ravaged by cycles of war and news coverage. These poems alternately rage, laugh, celebrate and grieve, singing in the voices of people ravaged by cycles of war and news coverage and inviting the reader to see the human lives lived beyond the headlines.
Lena Khalaf Tuffaha has lived the experiences of first-generation American, immigrant, and expatriate. Her heritage is Palestinian, Jordanian, and Syrian and she is fluent in Arabic and English, and has academic proficiency in French. She has lived in and traveled across the Arab world, and many of her poems are inspired by the experience of crossing cultural, geographic and political borders, borders between languages, between the present and the living past.
Lena writes poetry, essays and translations. She is the winner of the 2016 Two Sylvias Chapbook prize for her manuscript Arab in Newsland, which will be published in March, 2016. Her essays have been published in the Seattle Times, Al-Ahram Weekly, and Kenyon Review Online. She translated the screenplay for the multi award-winning feature film When I Saw You, written and directed by Annemarie Jacir. When I Saw You premiered at the Toronto Film Festival in 2012 and was Palestine's official submission to the 2012 Academy Awards. She translated I Am A Guest on This Earth by Iraqi poet Faiza Sultan, published by Dar Safi Press. Her first book of poems, Water & Salt, is forthcoming from Red Hen Press in April, 2017.
Lena's poems have been published in print and online journals including Magnolia, Blackbird, Barrow Street, the Taos Journal for International Poetry and Art, Diode, Floating Bridge Review, Mizna, Borderlands: Texas Review and Sukoon. She is a three-time Pushcart Prize nominee, for her poems "Immigrant" (2014), "Middle Village" (2015), and "Maqaam" (2016). Her poems "Ruin" and "Dhaya'" have been nominated for Best of the Net 2016. Several of her poems have been anthologized; most recently, her poem "Running Orders," published in Letters to Palestine: American Writers Respond to War and Occupation, by Verso Press and "Seafaring Nocturne," published in Gaza Unsilenced by Just World Books.
Lena spent ten years working with journalists and editors as a volunteer for Seattle's Arab American community organizations. She helped to tell the stories of people living between two homelands, people who speak in translation and navigate the realities of long wars. She earned her Bachelor of Arts in Comparative Literature from the University of Washington. She is an MFA candidate at Pacific Lutheran University's Rainier Writing Workshop.
Lena is passionate about poetry, the perfect cup of coffee, travel, language, freedom and equality, and gardening. She lives with her husband and daughters in Redmond, Washington.
Whoa. This is really good. Poetry that reads smoothly, hits the head on things that are difficult to put into words (like displacement, the way that war changes you, the politics of making Arabic coffee, the terror of occupying space that is no longer yours, the closeness and distance of parent-child relationships, the special relationship we have to olive oil, lemon trees, jasmine). Putting into words and humanizing the misunderstood nature of the Arab diaspora in all its varied forms is a powerful and complex thing for a poet, especially one that makes this accessible in English.
"I love to tell you where I am from I look forward to the moment when the nine letters I utter evoke a contortionist's masterpiece on the faces of polite company. ... I love to tell you where I am from. That place with a name charged as an electric fence, my story a barbed-wire cautionary tale, my homeland an invitation to spar." ("Naming It")
Tell me that doesn't chill you to the bone. Her poems simultaneously push readers into uncomfortable reflective spaces, as well as explain sweetly and painfully the concrete beauties and tragedies of lived Arab experience. Absolutely loved it.
Lena Khalaf Tuffaha has personified the struggles of the Arab diaspora of refugees, prisoners of Israel's apartheid state, the West's misconstrued views of the Arab world being a dangerous and volatile place, and the fingerprints of Arab culture shared amongst all Arabs across the world in her beautiful poems. I found myself falling in love with every poem and rereading lines over and over that went straight to my core or echoed in the cities of my bone marrow. This poetry collection is powerful and absolutely phenomenal. Lena writes impassioned poems that cover the Palestinian experience, the Syrian civil war, the overall Arab refugee experience, the dipole pull of children of Arab immigrants, and tragedies of the Arab Spring. I want to buy a copy of this collection to read again and again.
I am utterly unequipped and unqualified to write a review of these astonishing poems other than: Please, everyone must read these. Even if you’re not a poetry person. I will literally buy you a copy or lend you my own (if you promise to take good care of it).
Easily an all-time favorite. The vivid way Tuffaha crafts images, sounds, meaning, and prayer is unmatched.
“Upon Arrival,” “Rules for Recitation,” “Immigrant,” “Dhayaa’,” “Circling the Dome of the Sky,” “Eating the Earth,” “Mountain, Stone,” “Running Orders,” “Again and Again,” “Ruin,” “Newsworthy,” “It’s Beirut Out Here,” “Almond Trilogy,” “National Security Advisory,” “Instructions for Making Arabic Coffee,” “My Mother Returns to Her Childhood Home,” “Translation,” “Relocation,” “Time Management,” and “Linger”
“I love to tell you where I am from. That place with a name charged as an electric fence, my story a barbed-wire cautionary tale, my homeland an invitation to spar.” 🍉💔
Intifada Portrait
I have a Palestinian friend whose eyes are like two pools of olive oil about to ignite. They swarm with stars as he tells me about his Intifada portrait. “The Israeli soldiers showed it to me in jail. They have cameras that can get a close-up of every pore in your skin! Shit! Is that really me? I was flying above the black smoke from the burning tires . . .” He leans over his coffee cup, “. . . a stone in my clenched fist, ready to strike!” His eyes narrow now, his voice drops to a low rumble. “Who is going to erase that from their memory?
"An olive tree is like an iceberg, he tells us, the roots run so deep what we can see above the ground is nothing compared to what lies beneath." -from "Subterranean"
It's hard to narrow down a few recommended poems when the whole collection has gripped my heart, but here are some I would highly encourage to read: -"Naming It" -"Upon Arrival" -"Time Travel" -"Rules for Recitation" -"Dhayaa'" -"Eating the Earth" -"Again and Again" -"Newsworthy" -"Middle Village" -"Time Management" -"Linger"
Such a powerful collection of poems! I came upon this tiny volume in the local bookstore and peeked inside, not familiar with the author. I read the first poem right there and my eyes started watering. Then the next, and the next... I couldn’t stop. So much beauty, agony, nostalgia and grace! About immigration. About the ancient world. About telling where you are from. About time travel. About war. About the brown boy with the rock in his hand. About the News. About indifference.
This is an absolute stunner of a poetry collection. Part horrors of Palestinian lives under occupation and attack, part motherhood, all wonderful. Published in 2017, the poems are just as relevant in today's aggression and you see that nothing happening is new. Absolute recommend.
Reading Challenge: #thediversebaseline; Prompt: a poetry collection
This book is written by a Palestinian, Jordanian, and Syrian author. There are 2 speeds I have when it comes to poetry complete devour or slow and savor. This was a slow and savor and it was due to how much each poem made me reflect, feel and with the current images coming out of Gaza it showcased just how much things have not changed but for the worse. This poetry collection was published in 2017. It is not just about pain and suffering but also joy, family, community, love. Each poem invites you the reader to contemplate and feel things on such a deep level.
EXCEPTIONAL Tonight the sky shines. Black silk of darkness falls in thin strands above the brow of a blood-red moon. Silent, as are the people gathered to witness its eclipse, this clot-thick exceptional moon. It hangs low in Kunduz too as the surgeons scrub with vigor and tenderness each finger, each crevice in the palms of their hands that prepare to salvage, to heal. Exceptional, this American night that sleeps in the comfort of a history made, a leader once imagined impossible, who turns out to be human. Dream-born, our own and no stranger to the world. And yet, there are exceptions. The promises of peace that fly low and fast on the backs of our drones, or glide along slender missiles we gift to those who tell the same legends we do about brown bodies. Exceptional in our prayers, in our hope for what we with our own hands unhinge, what we with our infinite silences make possible
The poem shared, Exceptional above is one of my favorites it shows how American leaders will say they want peace but will show that peace by helping supply the missiles that are dropped on the Palestinian people. It highlights that silence is the reason that the occupation continues to happen and how in the darkness doctors prepare to heal. This poem hit me so hard because it showcased just how much has not changed and continues to be the plight of the Palestinian people from a government perspective, but the world is waking up and seeing the occupation for what it is and the harm it has inflicted and continues to inflict.
Lena’s poetry is beautiful and heartbreaking all at once. The longing, anger, sadness, and experiences of Palestinian diaspora is visceral. Smooth, readable. These poems are so striking from a visualization and sensory perspective. They capture both the everyday/mundane experiences and the horrors of displacement, refugees, and violence against Palestine. Published in 2017, but so timely and applicable to the current genocide ongoing.
Water & Salt is a breathtaking collection of poetry. Her use of form is beautiful, the imagery she depicts is so vivid, and she melds the beauty of Palestinian and Arab identity with the trauma of a war torn and colonised homeland. It is an absolutely stunning collection from beginning to end. My favourites of the collection are Upon Arrival; Mountain, Stone; Running Orders; Again and Again; Newsworthy; Instructions for Making Arabic Coffee; Middle Village; Time Management; and Copybooks.
Water & Salt is a poetry book divided into 3 parts.
The first part focuses on the author's identity, her own self, and her family. The theme of displacement is noted here, as well as the importance of language.
The second part is easily my favourite in this book. Every single poem in this section is powerful, leaving a lasting impression on me. I experienced a sense of déjà vu while reading this section. Instead of saying "Never Again," the poem Again and Again asks why atrocities against humans happen again and again, forcing the reader to reflect on human apathy. The poem Ruin is exceptional. It highlights how society is reactionary after the fact and silent during the actual event. How society remembers the lost, but ignores the ones who are in the process of being lost.
There are so many incredible poems in the second section, but I think my favourite one is Newsworthy. I feel like this is a piece of writing that everyone should read, especially those who live in the west. It is so timely as we continue to dissect the western media's propagandist depiction of Palestine. The hint of satire interwoven in the words of this poem is the cherry on top. I would even go so far as to label it as a satirization of western propaganda.
The third and final part is kind of a mix of parts one and two. I'm not really sure how to properly categorize this final section. Maybe it's not meant to be categorized. I should also note here that there are cultural references that may confuse readers, but the author provides a list of explanations and translations to help the non-Arab reader's understanding.
Overall, many of these poems push you to reflect on what your eyes are seeing, what your ears are hearing, what your brain is processing, and what your heart is feeling. These poems will make you uncomfortable. They will push into a space of troubled self-reflection. At the same time, they will break your heart by forcing you to wear the shoes of Palestinians and feel the Palestinian lived experience.
Extreme violent events continue to create stateless people: a new human condition devoid of conventional roots or connections with the political world. Throughout these poems one can red the layers of it. Other connections are created through poetry, and through words; new roots are in the making.
Lena Khalaf Tuffaha’s book of poetic offerings, Water & Salt, is a splendid rendering of the bittersweet tensions between hard and soft prose that create a lingering reminiscence of nostalgia for home and country as she writes of global human rights and of their sustained violation. She speaks for the voiceless with great sensitivity, and for those whose past, present, and future have been forever marred by displacement from violent conflict and civil unrest, while constructing an argument for the responsibility of society to value and preserve cultural heritages and identities of countries and its people ravaged by endless cycles of war. Tuffaha writes of mothers aching to their return homes, of fathers desperate for work to support their families, and of children who are searching for a childhood that is forever lost. And yet, despite writing of unimaginable pain, suffering, and loss, Tuffaha infuses moments in her work of great strength, defiance, and resiliency, and a determination to remain unbroken such as in her poem “Water & Salt” about a hunger strike in the Israeli jails by Palestinian prisoners: We carve out a sanctuary / that no beating can tear down / no interrogation scars can pierce (37). Her potent and edgy writing really works well for me because of the relevance of the weighty subject matter enhanced by her chosen methodology. She possesses an inane ability to drive a narrative through effective utilization of literary language, and a distinct ability to fashion regional and cultural details that add nuanced meaning to her storytelling. Such details and characteristics are vital to her work and are not just tidbits carelessly sprinkled about as useless decoration. Their inclusion is not of happenstance. It is purposeful and necessary as is evidenced in Tuffaha’s poem “Eating the Earth” as she discusses nostalgia through a recipe of memories and the hopes of renewal: And to the dough bring the signature of your fingertips, stretch the canvas before you, summer linen of wheat and autumn velvet of olive oil, smooth like a map of silence an fragrance, of invisible terrains of memory. (Tuffaha 29) Water & Salt leave little doubt that Lena Khalaf Tuffaha is a superb poet with a deep literary well from which to draw with a socially engaged writing style that cements her status as a cultural advocate. Lena Khalaf Tuffaha’s book Water & Salt comes in supplication reverberating deeply and profoundly within the echo of humanity. This book is a masterful creation by a soulful artist where every line and word evoke deep meaning short of prayer. There is not a misstep to be had, as it all works so very well for me. I have not one negative note. In many ways, Water & Salt, is similar to the Winds Howl Through the Mansions by Bejan Matur yet is much darker in nature, yet just as defiant in tone with a myriad of richly composed literary landscape.
This collection of poetry is so vast and ranges from rage to laughter to grief and it invites us to look at the Palestinian experience through a different lens than the one western media props up for us.
The poems are beautiful and smooth and tackles concepts that fundamentally change you.
Favorite Quotes:
“We are driving away/ because we can leave/ on the magic carpet of our navy blue/US passports that carry us/ to safety and no bomb drills/ to a place where the planes are made/and the place where the president will make the call to send the planes/ into my storybook childhood/over the seven hills/ next door to neighbors who will now/become refugees
“In my language/ the word for loss is a wide-open cry,/ a gaping endless possibility
“Let me be/ the one who goes first,/ let my heart never live a day without you./ children should bury their elders
“They call us now before they drop the bombs Later int that same poem it says “They call us now to say/ run./ you have 58 seconds from the end of this message/ your house is next./ they think of it as some kind of/ war time curtsey/ it doesn’t matter that/ there is no where to run to/ it means nothing that the borders are closed/ and your papers are worthless/ and mark you only for a life sentence/ in this prison by the sea/
“If all that breaks our hearts is/ yesterday/ and the silent colonnade/ anticipating/ the dynamite/ if all we love/ is a lost world/ then let the dust/ swallow our names/ let the maps/ beneath our feet/ burn./ if all we are is past,/ who are these millions/ now/ gasping for air.
Powerful, beautiful collection of poems. Each line hits you so hard, you have to pause and really take it in. The title poem, Water and Salt, was incredibly moving. "To own our bodies and the land beneath them, to breathe the air on both sides of the wall...to wait and wait for your checkpoints and your watchtowers, to be subsumed in a crashing wave, of water and salt, you never saw it coming, this cleansing, how we have become this ocean" (37-38). The poem, as the notes in the back of the book explain, is a nod to "June 2014, when nearly 5,000 Palestinian political prisoners in Israeli jails began a nationwide hunger strike for freedom. They decided to subsist on only water and salt."
Some of my favorite lines:
"Mama is a time-traveling word, a song to you and to my own mother, so that whenever I reach out to you, she is there, too. And calling you I am once again, the daughter, tethered to her, just as I am, locked in this lifelong embrace, with you. I call myself and my own mother and you, all three of us, in one breath" (79).
I especially loved "Instructions for Making Arabic Coffee", which includes the line: "Never pour too much into one cup, It's like saying, My heart is too full for you." (72).
"The roots run so deep, what we can see above the ground, is nothing compared to, what lies beneath" (95).
"What she called home was a jar of olives" (38) "The land will never forget out footsteps...my skin remembers it" (43) "If we all we are is past, who are these millions now, gasping for air?" (48) "Before you were a survivor, you were someone's light" (62) "Our people are starved for love, not bombings" (68)
Water & Salt reads like a conversation between the reader and the author. At times she is impassioned, at others imploring, but always affecting. Tuffaha writes about the diaspora experience and about the past and present of her homelands. I found myself bookmarking nearly every other poem, the collection is that strong. But a few stood out particularly for me: the opening poem "Upon Arrival" deals with the suspicion Muslim people face when traveling; "Immigrant" is a recollection of fleeing a war-torn city and trying to hold onto the memories of that place; "Dhayaa'" is a linguistic study of grief; my favorite poem in the collection, "Tu'burni" begins with an epigraph that explains the translation and meaning of the title, and follows with one of the most devastating poems I've ever read; and "Running Orders," where the speaker pretends at conversation with a bomber and hits upon the senselessness and depersonalization of civilian bombing. Nothing is taken for granted by the speakers in these poems; they brace for the worst, and we hear their rage and grief in every line. "Ruin" does this especially well, calling out those who would mourn historical buildings and artifacts before sparing a thought for the people affected by war. I could go on and on about this collection, but really I just want to say that it's a must-read. I will say the last section did not move me as much as the first two sections, but they were quieter poems, more focused on family life. I really look forward to reading more from Tuffaha in the future.
Water & Salt is great book of poetry from a woman author whose family fled from the middle east. These poems are very powerful and scary at the same time. At a few points of the book I could feel the fear of being stuck in a country that was under attack. I couldn’t imagine how that must feel as a child who has no way of escaping. My favorite quote of the book is “What you need to know is that reading Is an act of worship And the word is sacred. More than meaning There are mysteries and in the curve and sway Of the sound And the sound lives in your breath And you were born to praise.” (20) I have herd people talk about reading as a form of worship before. The way she wrote this was beautiful. You can tell from her writing that it is a form of worship for her. She probably used her writing to help her through the terrible times that she went through while trying to escape from Syria. What didn’t quite work with me was the poems didn’t seem to be in the best order. I felt as though they should have been in order of the way things happened in her life. It didn’t make sense to have “Rules of recitation” and then “immigrant” right after. But I’m just being picky because as a whole each poem was beautifully written. Tuffaha has a couple other poetry books out as well, the one that looks to be the most interesting to me is Arab in Newsland.
But best of all, they taught us poetry. They tucked gleaming verses into our hearts, and let them sleep for years. They said: “Remember these words, this is where you are from, write this in your copybooks.”
Copybooks, Lena K. T.
En junio de 2014, más de cinco mil prisioneros políticos de Palestina, encarcelados en Israel, hicieron una huelga de hambre. Solo agua y sal para sobrevivir. Han pasado diez años y el genocidio no para. Lena Khalaf toma de ahí el nombre que da a su poemario. Una metáfora dolorosa de la paz esperada, del costo incalculable de los daños. El libro duele, está lleno de preguntas y de anécdotas sobre qué significa pertenecer a lugares y situaciones que ya no existen. No son los mecanismos de la memoria a los que estamos acostumbrados los que guían está meditación poética. Es el deseo de ir en busca de los valores, de lo inmaterial capaz de mantener a un pueblo desde hace varias décadas resistiendo. Lena escribe: 'Nowhere is a homeland too' porque te pueden quitar todo pero arrancar una cultura de raíz no es tan fácil. En medio de la guerra, estos poemas denuncian y expresan un amor que se nutre en la profundidad y no en la superficie –espacio donde la destrucción anuncia con antelación su triunfo—.
Whoa. This is really good. Poetry that reads smoothly, hits the head on things that are difficult to put into words (like displacement, the way that war changes you, the politics of making Arabic coffee, the terror of occupying space that is no longer yours, the closeness and distance of parent-child relationships, the special relationship we have to olive oil, lemon trees, jasmine).
Putting into words and humanizing the misunderstood nature of the Arab diaspora in all its varied forms is a powerful and complex thing for a poet, especially one that makes this accessible in English.
"I love to tell you where I am from I look forward to the moment when the nine letters I utter evoke a contortionist's masterpiece on the faces of polite company. ... I love to tell you where I am from. That place with a name charged as an electric fence, my story a barbed-wire cautionary tale, my homeland an invitation to spar." ("Naming It")
Tell me that doesn't chill you to the bone. Her poems simultaneously push readers into uncomfortable reflective spaces, as well as explain sweetly and painfully the concrete beauties and tragedies of lived Arab experience. Absolutely loved it.
So I have come to realize that it’s impossible for me to ever adequately “review” poetry, because poems are, well, magic and my writing is just, well, human. Still, I LOVED this collection and wanted to make sure I didn’t let this one slip away without mention.
Per the bio on her website Lena Khalaf Tuffaha “has lived the experiences of first-generation American, immigrant, and expatriate”, and while I have no idea if all - or even any - of the poems in this book are her first hand experiences and memories, I have little doubt that her life story is one of the main reasons her words are so powerful.
These pieces are a mother’s love and daughter’s dreams. They’re the destruction of every item you own. The fear of displacement, the labyrinth like loneliness pervading breath when your very home has been blown away. And the evocative imagery was so strong that I could not help but continually slip inside each story; feel the desert heat on my skin, the kneaded bread dough between my fingers, the walls of the home I fled from when I leaned the bomb was coming.
While this book of poems was published a few years ago, the events of October 2023 make it just as, if not more, relevant today.
It is too easy for those of us who have not experienced the horror of being uprooted or being caught in the middle of political objectives to have unjustified opinions about that which we haven't experienced. This collection, to me, is a good reminder that underneath the events we see on the television or Internet there exist real people with real lives - people who just want to exist in peace.
I particularly enjoyed Time Management, Cruising Altitude, they could be book ends in a way. I'm not particularly well versed in literature, and especially not poetry, but I found it easy to imagine the feelings and thoughts behind the words in this collection, which kept me going to the end in a single sitting. I am looking forward to revisiting these poems again. Highly recommended.
These superb poems offer a glimpse into the lives of Palestinians and the war-ravaged lives of those who endure occupation of their homes. The author is Palestinian-American. In “Time Travel” she writes: “We travel back so that you / will know who we were and who / you might have been if you / had lived here too.” These poems remind us of places we may have been and might never go. They offer insight into the power of experiences and language. My favorite poem is the metafictional “Rules for Recitation,” which begins: “What you need to know is that reading / is an act of worship.”
This is a beautiful collection of poetry about grief, generational trauma, cultural longing, cultural belonging, the immigrant experience and so much more. Written by an author of Palestinian, Jordanian and Syrian heritage, the poems cross borders, weave together English and Arabic and paint the love Tuffaha has for her loved ones and her roots.
I felt impacted by many of these poems and was carried by the vivid descriptions of the author’s homeland, traditional foods and war-torn scenery.
Lena Khalaf Tuffaha’s poetry is authentic and emotionally captivating. Her poems discern the experience of holding an Arab identity, especially since she comes from a Palestinian, Jordanian, and Syrian heritage. The poems touch on being an immigrant, defining a homeland, war, grief, and identity in such a beautiful way. There is a celebration embedded within the collection, just as much as resistance and strength. Loved this immensely.