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Faleeha Hassan

Faleeha Hassan, who is currently residing in New Jersey, was born in Najaf, Iraq, in 1967. She earned an M.A. in Arabic literature and has published several collections of poetry in Arabic: Being a GirlA Visit to the Museum of Shade, Five Titles for My Friend-The SeaThough Later OnPoems to Mother, Gardenia Perfume, and her collection of children’s poetry, The Guardian of Dreams. Her works of Arabic prose include Hazinia or Shortage of Joy Cells and Water Freckles (a novella).  Her poems have been translated into English, Italian, German, French, and Kurdish. She has received awards from the Arab Linguists and Translators Association (WATA) and the Najafi Creative Festival for 2012, as well as the Prize of Naziq al-Malaika, the Prize of al-Mu’tamar for poetry, and the short story prize of the Shaheed al-Mihrab Foundation. She serves on the boards of Baniqya, a quarterly in Najaf, Sada al Nahrain (Echo of Mesopotamia), and the Iraqi Writers in Najaf association. She is a member of the Iraq Literary Women’s Association, The Sinonu (i.e. Swift) Association in Denmark, the Society of Poets Beyond Limits, and Poets of the World Community.

Sandy Cinderella
A Scene from Daily Life in al-Najaf, Iraq

The expanse of the sky overhead revealed no sign of a coming storm. The weather was so clear she felt like sitting outside and gazing at the sky. So she decided to spread a mat on the ground as she did almost every day.

*OLD*Our Neighbors

I always closed the door when my father entered our house, but this time I left it open as I looked for a long time at two huge pots on black iron tripods beneath which flaming pieces of wood had been placed to turn to live coals.

*OLD*Witch!

Yesterday, after a neighbor heard about my wretched situation, she took me to a witch she said would rid me of my husband if I paid a certain amount of money. The diviner also required me to procure handfuls of dirt from seven abandoned graves.

Witch!

Yesterday, after a neighbor heard about my wretched situation, she took me to a witch she said would rid me of my husband if I paid a certain amount of money. The diviner also required me to procure handfuls of dirt from seven abandoned graves.

Our Neighbors

I always closed the door when my father entered our house, but this time I left it open as I looked for a long time at two huge pots on black iron tripods beneath which flaming pieces of wood had been placed to turn to live coals.

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The Brooklyn Rail

SEPT 2020

All Issues