To the Greatest Teacher, Muhammad Ali

Mohammad Ali (May he rest in peace)

There is still darkness where light shines. But it bows to the light. 

Submitting in awe at its fiery flames.
Muhammad Ali taught me that.
Even at the top of the ladder, at the top of the game, 

you never forget to help anyone at the first step.
Muhammad Ali taught me that.
A fighter never forgets where he got his energy from. 

Where he came from. To Whom he will return. 

He never forgets he belongs to God.
Muhammad Ali taught me that.
If you can imagine success, you're almost there. 

If you can accept failure, you're almost there. 

If you can get back up, you are there.
Muhammad Ali taught me that.
Put nothing before your faith, 

everything after your dreams, 

and anything is yours.
Muhammad Ali lived that.
Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
You were a teacher. You are a teacher. 

We're still learning your lessons. 
Thank you.

One People, One Voice

One of the most beautiful moments from today's Rally in Solidarity with ‪#‎Aleppo‬. We began marching and by the time we got to the Trump tower we found ourselves merging with rallies against deportation, against unfair wages, against discrimination and hate. One moment in the microphone was our classic Arabic chants against Assad, the next moment we joined those from the other rally in yelling 'Sí se puede'. Eventually we were all one loud voice in unison--"The people United will never be defeated". They tied the flags together and we chanted side by side. Truth is on the side of the oppressed and we are one people who stand for justice, no matter who or where.

Words & Numbers

I like words a lot more than numbers. 

I feel at home in words.

I can taste, smell, and feel words. 

Numbers, they never tell me the whole story.

4.6 million Syrian refugees 

11.3% of the world's population hungry 

244 schools damaged in Palestine 

38.8% -Trumps wins primary in Illinois 

2 am. 3 am. 

See, Only words can capture infinity. 

Only words can explain fear.

Only words can pronounce hope.

Only words can be powerful, even when they're not there. 

Numbers they, tell of what's present.

Of what meets the eye. Of what can be multiplied. And subtracted. 

Of what can be defined.

Numbers, they label. 

Blood pressure 120/80

Heart rate 95

But he feels dead, inside.

7 doctor visits. 12 stitches. 

But she's grateful, for another day. 

Words, they have this ability. 

To capture what's on the mind. 

To release what's in the heart.

To enrich what's in the soul.  

They tell of stories untold. 

And of generations long ago.

They turn on candles in the dark.

They form prayers out of tears.

Numbers and words they, work together sometimes. 

They paint with different strokes. And speak different tales.

But words, they remain permanent. 

Even after numbers lose their count. 

And if you were to count God's favors, you would never be able to number them.

For numbers cannot grasp, the amount of blessings that, pour and pour into our lives. 

The amount of times we are given second chances. 

The amount of times that we breathe.

Inhales. Exhales. Sighs and Reliefs.

Numbers will tell you how many. Words will tell you who. Numbers will tell you if you passed. Words will remind you, you are more than that. 

Numbers will say it's 5 words total.

Words will say: You Can Change The World

Numbers will say, that's not accurate.

Words will say, read between the lines. 

Love & Hate

Love & Hate 

They never talked.
Hate hated love.
But love never understood why.
Hate used to love, until he lost his way.
He had friends like Fear and War. He felt safe behind their walls.
In fact, Hate wanted to build an even bigger wall.
Hate loved to put on masks.
Love hated masking her heart.
Hate was popular. He got support from many.
Love was quiet, but she spread like perfume in the air.
Hate was strong, a jumper. Straight to conclusions.
Love was soft, a breeze. Patiently listening.
Love wanted to meet Hate. Love wanted a date.
And so they stumbled upon one another one night.
Hate could barely look Love in the eyes.
Because Love Was like a Poem.
But not your ordinary one.
She didn't rhyme or repeat
But she flowed.
Love was a poem.
Filled with similes and metaphors.
She is like and she is not like.
She spoke as if an allusion. Reminding Hate of a time and place he may have seen. Or dreamed.
Love was a poem.
She pronounced his heart beats clearly.
She paused at just the right times.
Sometimes a hyperbole. Exaggerating thoughts.
Sometimes a paradox. Confusing. Reassuring.
A comma, waiting to say something more.
A fragment, not afraid to stand alone.
A period.
Knowing one day she would also end.
Love was a poem, and Love did not hesitate to embrace Hate as he was.
And she changed him in an instant.
Love taught Hate to open his clenched fists.
To take off his mask.
To open his eyes.
Love taught Hate that it was ok not to understand.
Love taught Hate her peaceful ways and Hate remembered his way back home again. 
Love was a poem.
Love was a teacher.
And she taught Hate to Love again.