Today, once again, presenting Batool Abu Akleen, the Palestinian poet.

Read her poem “This is how I cook my grief” –

I pick fresh hearts from the street

The most defeated ones

With nimble fingers, I steal the tears

I fill rusted sardine tins with the smell of sorrow.

Mothers’ glances cling tightly to their eyes

But I snatch them swiftly, 

because I resemble their children.

In a copper pot,

I boil what I stole

And add blood that hasn't absorbed

And sawdust from a coffin 

that was meant as the door to his new home

I pour the mixture into my heart

Until it blackens

This is how I cook my grief.