‘6.15.24’ & Collected Works
Gamaal El Attar is a filmmaker, photographer, architect, and urban planner. Originally, he is a Palestinian refugee whose resilient journey is driven by an unwavering passion for storytelling through film. 10 years ago, Gamaal started his dream of filmmaking activism. His documentaries amplify refugee stories and advocate for social inclusion, earning widespread acclaim and establishing him as a beacon in global filmmaking and social advocacy.
6.15.24
and in this house i am catching my foot in the screen door
and in this body i am entitled to what i am not
and in this place i am the galaxy standstill /
i wake whenever i please, and know not the meaning of calories. i take eyes turned upwards
towards me as submission. i take myself as oppressed for wanting to submit sometimes.
and in this town i am licking bookshelves clean
and in this building i ask the only questions
and in this room i am not receptive to consequences
and in this universe i do no wrongs
at the time of inception i am unbridled
by what is necessary or what is sufficient
by to whom to lend a piece of heart
and where tears go for those
younger with unaddressed ailments
those
the wiser with unheld hurt
and what it means, in general, to feel
fatalistic tie, to give to fatal degree
and in this situation i
can ride a bike, and better correct english, and welcome the dogs biting at my forearms
in this instance i know everything you don't although i
don't really quite know much at all
6.18.24
on your birthday i pretend to forgive you
i let it last, though just on paper
on the late train i’m asked if i mind a bitter man’s drinking
and he laughs when he says thank goodness no one smells, right?
i’m alright walking around when i know i’ll be found
make eye contact with the notary to
prove that we have mutual understanding i am who i am
thirty eight days ago i didn't think twice about
her girlfriend holy fuck, its been thirty eight days
i didn’t know phones rang through the halls on trains
i’m leaving sticky notes so they don't forget me
thirty eight days later i’m trying to untie her laces
i’m not infatuated, i promise, only if
it weren't my due diligence to gnaw at your eyes
i’m reframing feigning forgiveness and
wondering if you keep her afraid
thank goodness i don’t let it happen to me, right?
6.20.24
i think if no one is obsessed with me soon i might die
blackberry liquid palms and
on a case by case basis requests to not /
no knowing grins and no lies for benefits and for
those things i am sorry, i’m
sunken and in need of love my
lover does not give me.
eleven drinks, silent pre-phrase pauses, what i’d
trade for corrections and wrong visions of what’s real
the requests i made are not fulfilled and the
things i wished for all are horribly disappointing
apple behind the eyes and tree sprouting good roots but would leave you to burn alive;
negligent to burn a house down, conscientious enough to plan for a birthday.
who am i if no one is in love with me?, –
clearly i am not good enough for myself this yet
Ariana Eftimiu is a student at Barnard College, Columbia University, in New York City. When not writing, she is making a several-hour-long playlist on Spotify or on a long walk accompanied by a coffee and her loved ones. She has published work in the National Poetry Quarterly, Not Very Quiet, and the Columbia Daily Spectator, among other places. Follow her co-run online music and arts magazine at pottedpurple.com or catch up with her @arianadrinkingcoffee.
