In his twelfth collection, Yahia Lababidi advocates for the rights, dignity, and safety of Palestinians, crying out against the brutality inflicted upon Gazans by the Israeli government. These poems address staggering violence while remaining accessible and optimistic, prioritizing values of peace, hope, and solidarity. Lababidi dedicates the book to his grandmother, a Palestinian woman who, eighty years ago, was “[f]orced to flee her ancestral home… at gunpoint,” after which she became a social worker, activist, and educator. Palestine Wail likewise embodies this desire to transfigure pain into compassionate action. 

Rather than advocating vengeance, Labadibi insists that we must all “tend to the wounds of others – and our planet – as an extension of our larger body.” Expressing empathy for violence endured by the Jewish people, Palestine Wail asserts that we must resist turning painful histories against one another. This earnest cri de coeur calls for a unity transcending borders, recognizing the sacredness of every life: “there is no looking away / no foreign soil / no Others.”

Palestine Wail forgoes linguistic flourishes: “during a genocide / most words lose their meaning – / some sound empty & others strange.” Readers who prefer formally complex or highly research-driven poetry may find this style does not resonate with them, but others will value the book’s accessibility and urgency. I was personally most compelled by the poems which described specific scenes: an air show, a zoo in Gaza, watermelons strewn rotting in the streets, the speaker walking in the woods with his nephew. Labadibi’s introduction and afterword essays are also highlights. The afterword provides especially valuable context regarding the ongoing violence against Gazans, and pays a touching tribute to Palestinian poets Refaat Alareer, Ghassan Kanafani, and Mourid Barghouti. 

This collection will appeal to those seeking an introduction to the realities of life in Gaza, and to those seeking a hopeful voice in a devastating time. mRb