(Born in Tunis, Tunisia & American citizen
Dr. KhédijaGahdoumis currently a Spanish teacher, and a study abroad advisorat the University of Georgia, USA.
Her creative writing includes the poetry collections másallá del mar. bibenes (Cuadernos del Laberinto, Spain, 2016), celosías en celo (Torremozas, Spain, 2013), and the translation into Spanish ofVocesdesde Taiwan: Antología de poesíataiwanesacontemporánea– Voices from Taiwan: Anthology of Contemporary Taiwanese Poetry (Mandarin, English and Spanish).
Her poetry is published in national and international journals, and edited volumes: Afro-Hispanic Review, Negritud: Journal of Afro-Latin American Studies, ÁmbitosFeministas, The South Carolina Modern Language Review, Dos Orillas: El Estrecho de Gibraltar-FronteraLiteraria, FeministasUnidas, Inc., HumanismoSolidario: Poesía y compromiso en la sociedadcontemporánea, ÆREA: RevistaHispanoamericana de Poesía, Me gusta la navidad: Antología de poesíanavideñacontemporánea, Taos Journal of Poetry, Șiirdendergisi Poetry Magazine, and recently Luz Cultural-EspacioPoético.
She is finalist in several poetry contests in Spain and Argentina, and she has been invited to Dhaka International Poets Summit& Recipient of Kathak Literary Award (2018), the 3rd edition of International Poetry Festival, Kosovo (2017), Formosa International Poetry Festival (2017), XXI Macedonia International Poetry Festival “Ditët e Naimit (2017), 1er Festivaldel Libro Hispano de Virginia-USA (2017), XIII Festival Internacional de Poesía de Granada-Nicaragua (2017), andFormosa International Poetry Festival(2016).
“the desert rose” (Luz Cultural –Espacio Poético, 2017)
The border is the blood clot in the river’s vein.
The border says ‘stop’ to the wind, but the wind speaks another
language, and keeps going.
Alberto Ríos
when you stop being an immigrant
who would you be when you stop
being the perfect one on the imperfect wall of alien names?
when I call you my rose and you welcome me with
arms full of roses and fragrancesof human faces
your faces of rain and spring,
when rocks keep daunting with their barbwire and you
still holding your innocence between cracks of blood
still determined to adornyour faith with tomorrow’s wisdom,
when time and time again the aging scars
plot against decent life on one side of the border
while on the other side they indecently celebrate it,
my desert rose!you, water of emerald times!
no matter how high they erect that wall
no matter how the deaf orchestra keeps playing its deafening crescendo
your womb brimming with free verse will refuse to
confine to the insane barbarism of the deserted words.
“habiba” (Celosías en celo. Ediciones Torremozas. Madrid, 2013)
to my mother
wise skillful and elegant
the housewife kept everything in order
amongst ceilings walls and secrets
she invented stories, chores and stories
to challenge the hours of the day
day after day
she invented herself
…she enjoyed it
as lively consistent and invincible as she was
(she never stopped being a woman)
among pots rags and brooms and beings
she used to wake up happy at every sunrise
unraveledinside her fenced patriarchy
she was able to fly to act and tosing
the essential core of perfect harmony
from the beginning of time
her white garments wafted
joyfully free and light in the open-air
enticing every single ray of sunshine
then the tasty dishes and desserts
with olive cumin coriander and vanilla
awakening each and every desire and
pledging jealousy
at last life becomes
a warm and serene cascade at her feet
gently soaking her depleted memory
and her resilient pain in order to stay alive
she
went out for bread at noon
and unfortunately she came across
oblivion
faraway youth memories still live on
so much sacrifice! what a life!
Habiba would have loved to be another one
she wished to be “habiba”
she simply wants to be
now, who is she?
Toujours le pardon, toujours le sacrifice.
Paul Verlaine
“transit” (Más allá del mar. bibènes. Cuadernos del Laberinto. Madrid, 2016)
Te hablan ahora de las rompientes de tu vida
Te cuentan de las falsas Itacas,
del naufragio en costas remotas
de tu cansancio doblándote hacia las olas.
Raúl Zurita
in medias res the monologue would have been silenced
stepping lifeless behind bleeding wounds.
the prosperous kingdom has surrendered to its own footprints.
on the threshold of the cradle-continent
mankind is still discerning its authentic lineage
in white ivory it keeps narrating its ebony experiences.
Ifriqiya[i], the land of golden palm trees and stars
today it’sa mosaic ripped apart by oblivious denial.
in silence its queen bees are dying.
[…let me tell you something… do you understand me?… erase those immigrants from here and now!…
I am not…I hate myself… my language is breaking down… finally I made it.
…one thousand and one nights would not fit in your second hand luggage…!]
.t.e.r.a. f. r. o. n. t. e. r. a. f. r. o. n. t. e. r. a. f. r. o. n. t.e.r.a.f. r.o.n.t.e.r.a.f.r.o.n.t.e.r.a.f.r.o.n.t.e.r.a.f.r.o.n.
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[1]Ifriqiya: It is the present-day name of Tunisia, which was established during the Aghlabid dynasty between the years 800 – 909. This emirate relied heavily upon the Abbasid Caliphate, which in turnbecame a military power in the Mediterranean region, sprawling its coastline from North Africa to southern Italy.
