Published in Overland Issue 236 Spring 2019 · Uncategorized The Nasīb of Lujayn Hourani Hasib Hourani The first half, the motherland: Tarshīha, District of Akkā Shiḥa Jamaluddin flew*. (ṭar shiḥa.) The legendary hero flew to the battlefield fought the crusaders and had a city named after him. town territory land By 1948 she is deserted, looted, not allotted to us. Al sha‘b flew*. (ṭar al sha‘b.) The masses flew in flocks to safer land and she is made naked. One decade later, she is dressed in new vesture brought in from the east, west, and north. They build her from the ground up, from the rubble and branches up (already 600 metres above sea level, they go even higher.) Like a woman in marriage she keeps her old name and adopts the new one, too – hyphenating them like it means modernity. *the imperfect conjugation of Arabic teer, to fly, is tar. The second half, the fatherland: Ḥiṭṭīn, District of Ṣafad The father didn’t make it out alive. In the twelve-hundreds he homed the battle of the horns in the sixteen-hundreds the ottomans in 1948 the war and that finally did it. Think bountiful, and flourishing, and refreshing; think olive trees, and fruit trees; think figs in the summer and spring water flowing into wadis (think about how these aren’t my thoughts and haven’t been anyone’s for a while now.) – Evacuate the inhabitants – Occupy the town – Chase away the rāji‘ūn* – Extinguish the men – pack animals – reason to come back Found new towns with new names and like rock salt in the mortar wound call old mosques heritage sights. *literally translated as the returners. Read the rest of Overland 236 If you liked this poem, buy the issue Or subscribe and receive four brilliant issues for a year Hasib Hourani Hasib Hourani is a Palestinian writer, editor, and arts worker who lives and works in Naarm/Melbourne. More by Hasib Hourani › Overland is a not-for-profit magazine with a proud history of supporting writers, and publishing ideas and voices often excluded from other places. If you like this piece, or support Overland’s work in general, please subscribe or donate. Related articles & Essays 15 May 2026 · Friday Fiction The structure Dominic Carew We made it to the park by eight. The winter sun was filtering through the far trees in a wan, lemon trickle, the thin clouds sheets of white. The cool sky a rubbed-at blue. The grass squelched beneath our feet and elsewhere, thinned from wear, the earth stretched grassless and muddy and, in some parts, released a thick mist. 8 May 202611 May 2026 · Nakata Brophy Prize The 2026 Nakata Brophy Prize for Young Indigenous Writers (Poetry) Editorial Team Please follow this link to enter the prize. Sponsored by Trinity College at the University of Melbourne and supporters, the Nakata Brophy Prize for Young Indigenous Writers, established in 2014 […]