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JAMELAH RACHEL HUSK Mom tells me the stories of Lebanon through the words of my Sito, who worked in her garden day and night, harvesting grape leaves and making tabbouleh and kibbeh in the kitchen while the silkworms watched from the low ceiling. She shows me pictures of poppies looking over the rubble ruins at Baalbek to see tossed stones cementing into the ground and losing balance against the broken archway. Heliopolis, with scattered Roman temples touched with darkening moss and browning stone. I wonder why my Sito would leave such a place to come here where she lived for fifty years, raising her children in flat grassy lands where there is only wind and cold rainwater for her garden.

108 husk

Profile for Red Cedar Review

Red Cedar Review Vol. 54  

Red Cedar Review Vol. 54