“Your heartbeat is a holy thing.”

And what am I but the smallest of footnotes in the universe’s everlasting memoir?

This country collects too many tongues, until our only language is silence.

I don’t know how to let you out without destroying us both.

Seek refuge in the space between my bones.

Somewhere inside my throat lives your ache.

I like to trace the ghosts of your fingers on the back of my hand. They read- I don’t know how to hold without you.

I pocket grief and it beckons me like a lover.

My silhouette is an ocean, your lips a sailor.

There is a calmness in not knowing.

Every beauty mark, a country to roam. Every stretch mark, a river to cross.

I loved you in quiet because to hide is to pretend that it is okay.

Allow me to introduce myself, A warning and a welcoming all at once.

We are so much more than skin can hold.

When I look in the mirror, I don’t see a poem.

I have lived too many lives to be only one thing, and instead of attempting to mesh them into a form of a human being, I have decided to love every jagged edge of mine.

I don’t like how your embrace feels like comfort till the knife thrust.

The ink of the scholar is more holy than the blood of the martyr.

In Islamic belief, knowledge is two-fold. There is that revealed through the Holy Prophet (s.a.s.) and that which man discovers by virtue of his own intellect.

A marriage is not primarily a duet but a holy trio.

When you educate without the Holy Spirit, you only get a clever devil.

He died to make you holy. You are not your own.

Christianity is a love relationship between a child of God and his Maker through the Son Jesus Christ and in the power of the Holy Spirit.

It is the skeleton of truth, to be clothed and rounded out by the living graces of a holy life.

The Holy Spirit, not the pope, is the vicar of Christ on earth.