Besmellah

By SARA ELKAMEL 


1. They said that hiding in a pomegranate is a grain that opens the gates to heaven.

2. Habayet el-janna or grain of heaven. 

3.  Are we talking about every pomegranate // why is it hiding // what if it slips // can you tell it is who it is or do you have to wait until yawm el-sa’a or day of the hour to know // only one // does it look like a key // is heaven gated // is it also red // does it work if you drink it // like juice // does it stay in your body // what stays in your body // does your body // stay in itself // where is this written // on our bodies // in our palms // or the insides of our ears // good hiding place.

4. Right by the kitchen there was a hole in the floor we squeezed shit into. Pomegranate skin fell on tiles impressed with burnt turquoise, burnt orange. The birds were brought down here for killing: we loved to watch. Alone in the light a hallway and a few doors down was the really black radio singing words of god.

5. I sat beside it alone in the light. Listen. gardens of grapevines                   olives                                     and pomegranates.

6. An invitation to look for lessons in yield.

7. Are they keys or are they lessons?

pomegranate

[Purchase Issue 15 here.]

Sara Elkamel is a journalist and poet, living between Cairo and New York. She holds an M.A. in arts and culture journalism from Columbia University. Her writing has appeared in The Guardian, The Huffington Post, The GroundTruth Project, Guernica, Ahram Online, and elsewhere. 

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Besmellah

Related Posts

February 2026 Poetry Feature: Fatimah Asghar and Shane Moran

FATIMAH ASGHAR
i cursed the frog / that found its way into / my house. murderous, i laid / poison for the ants. i threw / my moon in the trash. / when he cheated, i wished / him a hall of mirrors. / doomed to endless versions / of him. i prayed they’d undo / each other. & they did. i took / from the earth without permission."

Mountain, Stone

LENA KHALAF TUFFAHA
Do not name your daughters Shaymaa, / courage will march them / into the bullet path of dictators. / Do not name them Sundus, / the garden of paradise calls out to its marigolds, / gathers its green leaves up in its embrace. / Do not name your children Malak or Raneem, / angels want the companionship

Book cover of suddenly we

Poems from suddenly we by Evie Shockley

EVIE SHOCKLEY
one vote begets another / if you make a habit of it. / my mother started taking me / to the polls with her when i / was seven :: small, thrilled / to step in the booth, pull / the drab curtain hush-shut / behind us, & flip the levers / beside each name she pointed / to, the Xs clicking into view. / there, she called the shots / make some noise.