Little sharp blades with dirt in between–

Bite and cut, using ancient blood–in their tongues;

Ill mannered, clinging in their evil-filled identity.

Carelessness sold as breath; fluff talk, behind your back,

Might as well pay the price, for this Generation-wide

crooked speech.

Written by Hanin shaqsi © 2026

I don't know what to write,

Should I continue, or pause and reflect ?

Curves and dots, letters are nice,

But I can't write,

Clouds, the weight of clouds and thunder,

are in my chest,

When it strikes, I pause, but I don't reflect,

Something in the weight and mass makes us speech-less,

But that small fire ignites, and awake us,

With restless-ness.

Written by Hanin shaqsi © 2026

Hiding wherever the eyes won’t see.

They long to be found, yet all they do,

Is hide, in a castle, in a haunted house,

Or a visible garden full of blooms that outweigh

Their beauty.

Their tough skin and light heart do not match,

That’s why their form hides, behind the colorful,

Petals of the world, you see?

Maybe I’m one of them, and what I see in others,

is better than mine,

Prince charming would leave us afar, out of fear.

The mask of normality destroyed mankind,

They don’t know, that beauty lies within, What they fear mostly,

Truth, delicacy, growth, beyond maturity,

Maybe the one who will connect is also hidden,

In plain sight,

Hiding in their charms yet unseen almost eternally.

A small weight of encouragment would cheer them up, would make them smile,

would raise their wings, but that’s what not what they want,

An eye for an eye, and a heart for a heart,

Is what they longed for, not literally,

An unusual figure to the eyes,

And a bird’s heart, Internally.

Written by Hanin shaqsi © 2026

Whatever was there of dust will become -- crystal clear,

I thought I found it --The heart of a warrior,

It’s still contained in a glass, Protected, waiting,

For the rose to bloom, right through its eyes.

Collison won’t happen without the gravity of growth,

I don’t wish to get what is full of repressed, compressed, being,

I want a delicate transformation of a heart to a soothing -- rose,

To hold it, Peacefully, and gently above a pillow,

of common feathers.

Because to me,

To sleep, is to peace,

To dream, is to staying awake,

And all I want is to sleep.

Written by Hanin Shaqsi © 2026

I might have always felt a sense that I’m an outcast pebble in this vast, populated globe. The ones thrown away, creating waves upon waves, silently. Just as I’m in my last school years. The Students’ spirits wandered swiftly around. Faceless, unclear, as I watch them. No connection, but a void in my chest. I held one of the pebbles in my palms and stared at it.

“That is a good one,” Roy said and held three stones of different sizes.

“Good? It’s almost unseen,” I spoke, and throwing the stone in the sea. “This is how it is. Little waves, no impact, just small”

My brother stopped, and I could feel his breath floating, becoming one with the air. I paused and stared at him while the wind as holding my brunette hair above. My thoughts drifted away until I got something. Roy and I have the features of our father. Only our sister is a mix of both parents.

“We are like our father, I see,” I said, nodding.

Roy titled his head just as he furrowed his brows. I continued walking, thinking of our similarities until it weaved itself into a rope in my chest. There is a connection between us. I looked at the different sizes below me. One was uniting beside a yellow flower. What was it doing there?

“Look at this !” I said and sat down holding the petals. “A flower grew beside the stones”

They weren’t equal, yet they united in protecting the daisy. The days when I tried to flourish and envision my growth. A team of people like me uniting and creating a circle. There is a mysterious phenomenon within this. I thought maybe the pebble that we threw away isn’t that bad after all.

“Yes, every small pebble follows the other to create a flow.” Roy nodded and sat beside me.

He got it. Maybe these particles are a way to walk through life, we aren’t all the same size, but they could contribute to the flow.

“A flow and a swim of waves following the other,” I smiled and took another stone.

“That physics class got in your head,” He chuckled and got up.

I thought, what was it? The substance itself or the mind that catches that? Would the different volumes and energy matter? Particles can have two positions, as much as I’m a confused one.

“Maybe I like physics, but I’m a philosopher as you are,” I replied and followed him to the shore.

My brother is an introspective creature, pondering whatever follows him as a lesson or a clue.

“Does the size of the stone matter? What if one is heavy and the other isn’t?” I asked him and waited for his synthesis.

“It does and doesn’t, at the same time. Everyone would serve a purpose and a continuation of time passing,” he explained, and lit his smile up to his eyes. “See, I’m a physicist too.”

He is. His interaction mimicked the flow he was talking about. A straight line, but a circle of meaning. A closed end and a beginning.

“It means, even if you are a different part of that collection, you might be the one who made it a normal wavelength. You might stand out, or you might corrupt. You might glow or you might cease to exist,” I said and stood putting my feet in the water, while the sunlight penetrated the clouds, hitting the sea surface and the flower beside us.

“Whatever the perception is, return to the truth of it all,” He said and held four pebbles, “Different volumes, but the same family.” he threw them to the ocean.

The waves created synchronized movements that were all familiar. Us! The People, and our family, united. You might find the connection that was always there by just centering yourself in the cycle.

Written by Hanin Shaqsi © 2026