“I wrote this poem shortly after the tragedy at the port of Beirut. Among the images of the aftermath, I noticed images of people in their ruined homes, cooking and sharing food. I was inspired by the perseverance and adaptation of cuisine through times of struggle, and the way it unifies us on an essentially human level.” -Christopher Alam

We are still –

On the volcano’s edge,

victims of sympathy

dates dried up in the heat

pumice sizzling manaeesh,

olive trees exiled on the slope,

cursing coffee for boiling

blaming the volcano for erupting,

         making heaps of these bones,

         and conjuring kanafeh.

We look down from our mountain

somehow breaking bread

– starving.