Librería Samer Atenea
Librería Aciertas (Toledo)
Kálamo Books
Librería Perelló (Valencia)
Librería Elías (Asturias)
Donde los libros
Librería Kolima (Madrid)
Librería Proteo (Málaga)
A new collection of poems by Palestinian-American Catholic poet Andrew Calis, Which Seeds Will Grow? finds hope in the Holy Land. Grappling with his identity as a Christian Palestinian American, Andrew Calis recalls his father who saw Israeli jets swoop over his house in Jerusalem and a military helicopter fire bullets into his front yard. The same father who wouldn’t teach his children Arabic, for fear that they would have accented English, who kept his past close to his chest--unknown to his son. He recounts the death of his grandfather, a grandfather who would beat his father, and for whom he could not fully mourn because Arab men don’t cry. Andrew Calis digs through the pain of his family and of his homeland to find the fragile seed of contained life and delicate hope for the Holy Land--and reflects on how tenderly that seed must be nurtured. Steeped in wonder, Which Seeds Will Grow? explores the past and the present, from ancient Jerusalem to Baltimore’s gardens and alleys through the lens of a Palestinian American. The poems are patient, waiting for seasons to end, waiting for space to expand outward, and waiting for light to touch the earth. Despite the difficulty of waiting, readers will find hope in hopelessness and comfort in the contemplation of the world and its sacred mysteries. From Which Seeds Will Grow?Planting a Garden Stealing clippings from neighbors’ yards And smiling as they grew their own blooms In the safe and hidden rooms where we Keep watch on them like they are our children. *** Nothing grew. We knew this was A possibility, had read It sometimes takes two years, And we hoped in spite of only dirt For the green that could be anything.Perhaps we dug too shallow or too close To the shade, or stepped where we had already planted, Either crushing roots or breaking their curled First shoots before they broke the surface. *** So when one survived, wove a green line Of its own, thinly sprouting something unknowable, I ran Inside and for a moment felt What John must have felt Leaving Peter, old and unsteadily running, And running breathlessly To tell everyone -- Everyone What had happened And how you wouldn’t believe your eyes.
