Some men manipulate her and use her for greed,
Kill in her name, but her name comes from peace,
So I stand by her pillars proud, she keeps me grounded.
Reminds me to be humble; through her are all the answers,
To every question even worth asking,
And to love her, you must be able to love all human beings.
They deserve to hear her words and learn of her teachings.
She represents what’s within, all my sisters and brothers,
Practiced by my kin, and praised by my mother,
A gift from Allah, sent from way up above.
She is Islam,
And I am in love
Boonaa Mohammed: For the Love
Veronica A. Shoffstall (via incurableoptimist)
Plant your own garden and decorate your own soul
(Source: internal-acceptance-movement, via womenorgnow)
I love hands like I love people, they’re the maps and compasses in which we navigate our way through life, some people read palms to tell your future, but I read hands to tell your past, each scar marks the story worth telling, each callused palm, each cracked knuckle is a missed punch or years in a factory
- Sarah Kay: Hands
Def Jam Poetry
