Khédija Gadhoum

Khédija Gadhoum



(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 ReviewNegritud: Journal of Afro-Latin American StudiesÁmbitosFeministas, 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



went out for bread at noon

and unfortunately she came across



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.




[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.

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