Poems of Najla Ali Hassan (Egypt - Iraq)

Najla Ali Hassan,

Visual Artist, poet & Fashion Designer

Nationality: Egyptian-Iraqi.

Residency: UAE Golden Visa Holder.

Artistic Specialization: Visual Artist specializing in Japanese Patchwork (a unique technique involving 3D relief sculpture on compressed foam/cork covered with fabric). Proficient in various arts, including painting, sculpting, leather engraving, wood burning (pyrography), and diverse handicrafts.

Professional Roles: Fashion & Costume Designer (Traditional and Theatrical), Poet, and Journalist at Zahwa Magazine.

Artistic Career (2020–2025): * Solo Exhibitions: Held individual exhibitions in the UAE, Egypt, and Tunisia.

Group Exhibitions: Participated in 320 group exhibitions across Egypt, Iraq, UAE, Tunisia, Jordan, Serbia, Turkey, Germany, Morocco, and Spain.

Artistic Mission: Spreading the culture of beauty and leaving a positive footprint that enhances the world's aesthetic. Dedicated to empowering women survivors of violence by teaching them handicrafts for micro-production projects, and integrating People of Determination into society through art.

Hobbies: Visual arts, music, poetry writing, and traveling.

On the Hanger of the Night

Nagla Ali Hassan

Since you have gone, in silence deep and vast,

I tore my heart from where its roots were cast.

To drift like some cold cloud, forever free,

With thunder stilled and locked away from me.

Even the sins your memory used to bring,

No longer fall as rain, or leave a sting;

The showers of your pain have ceased to roll,

Against the quiet landscape of my soul.

Upon the hanger of the night, I’ve placed

The dreams I wove before they were effaced.

Each night I wear a garment from the line,

To shake away the dust of grand design.

I brush the ghosts and illusions from the thread—

The scars of you that chaos used to spread.

From velvet dark, I pluck the stars that fade,

To patch the holes that time and grief have made.

With steady hands and courage newly found,

I seek the box where broken things are bound.

I open up the chest of dreams stillborn,

To find a soul for that which has been torn;

Deep in that crate of endings, dark and thin,

Lost in the dusty corner where I’ve been.

On the Edge of Repentance

Nagla Ali Hassan

Before my mirror,

Everything within me wept, except my eyes...

O God! Who am I?

I have grown old; my years now match

The age of the crises that wrestled me.

The world has shrunk to become only

As wide as my own gaze.

I am torn between clinging

To the innocence of childhood,

And the senility of sacrifices.

I rode disappointment as a boat

In a sea of silence, where the waves

Tug at the fringes of longing with my tears.

I live lost in the desert of my life,

Wandering with the caravans of desertion,

Through all the seasons of boredom.

Pride in my pain overtakes me,

And heartache dwells between my ribs.

I lean on the staff of patience,

Murmuring letters that plead

With the days for their spring.

I reproach words cast to the wind,

Words that failed to write my elegy.

Are the stars blind—

Unable to see, unable to hear?

Or do they merely turn a blind eye

To the fever of this agony!

I comb the desert of my life,

Searching for loyalty,

Only to return with nothing

But a line of ancient hopes,

Written upon the surface of water,

Vanishing with the breath of a wanton breeze!

I bit the finger of regret,

And whispered to myself:

"Nothing strokes your heart like your own pulse,

So do not borrow the heartbeat of others

To make your heart feel joy.

None relieves your distress but your Lord,

So seize the chance—for you are

A step away, or even closer,

From repenting for clinging

To the fringes of a fleeting life!"

Perfume your tongue with supplication,

Greet life first,

And yourself second.

Then wash your heart with tears,

And thank God

For the blessing o

f oblivion,

Which brought peace to the soul,

And tranquility to the heart.

©®Nagla Ali Hassan