The face of Islam.

My name is Rema. I am a daycare teacher. I write inspirational poetry. I love Taylor Swift. I wear hijab.
And I am the face of Islam.
I’m not evil or want to kill man kind.
I want peace and equality to all.
I cover because it’s my right and my God told me to.
I have a voice and a pen in my hand.
What I believe are the two strongest things a woman can have.
Strength is what you need for Islam.
No I’m not a photocopy cover girl.
I have hijab and my inner beauty to show.
I was taught honesty, love and respect before I could walk and that every human being matters in the world no matter who or whom they worship.
I was taught kindness.
Even if the other person is not so kind.
I believe with my kindness I can change the harden hearts of this world.
I am a Muslim.
I am the face of Islam.
My family back home live in poverty and oppression.
Unfairness of it all.
My (dua) prayers go out to them every night before I sleep.
I believe I am blessed.
As I write this for you all I urge you all to educate before you hate.
I am a Muslim.
I am the face if Islam.




With my scarf wrapped around my hair
My shoulders back
My hijab. My choice. My modesty.
My crown, I feel like a queen.
I am royalty. I am empowered. Never oppressed.
Because you see. I choose.
I choose what you get to see.
With my scarf wrapped around my head. My shoulders back. My head held high.
With my hijab. I dress and walk with a sense of purpose. A symbol of my faith. A sense of purpose and respect.
My hijab. My pride. My choice.
With my hijab wrapped around my head.
I feel nothing short of a queen.



Because worrying is a waste of time.
It’s like standing outside on a sunny day with an umbrella in your hand.
Waiting for the clouds, waiting for the rain.
Put the umbrella down love, why worry when you don’t even know if it’s gonna rain.
Cuz baby even if it rains
I promise you, I’ll hold your hand, and splash in the puddles with you.
You’ll never have to face a storm alone.
For now my love, don’t worry
Just like every storm even if it starts it will soon pass.


Tell me


I don’t want to hear how God is testing me.  That doesn’t make things better.

I don’t want to hear how marrying her means his affair couldn’t have been a fling.  That man has no capacity to love.

I don’t want to hear the lies they all spread.  I have the truth in tapes.

I don’t want to hear how he spoilt my life.  I believe my life holds more.

Instead tell me how much of an ass he is.

Tell me that she’s a fool and will last a year (if lucky).

Tell me that he looks old and wasted.

Tell me that I’m worth my weight in gold.

For today, just tell me what I want to hear.

View original post

I am a writer

Some of us can do extraordinary things. Put on this earth to do incredible things.
Some of us can speak in such a way where the whole world is forced to listen.
And some of us are born leaders. Some of us can put people together from the inside out.
Some of us can empower and teach young minds to be amazing and push them to their limits.
Some of us are beautiful. They walk with a sense of purpose with every step.
All I can do is write.
I’m nothing but ordinary. Never extraordinary.
I’m not a speaker. Nor a leader or a teacher.
I don’t put people back together.
If only I was brave.
I don’t protect and serve.
I walk with no purpose.
All I can do is write.
I am a writer.



But her smile. Not her fake smile. Strained, nothing going back to those eyes.
But her real smile.
It can stop traffic and make the sun rise.
If only she smiled more often.
Her smile lightens up her beautiful face. Makes her eyes sparkle.

It’s like a light bulb.

*flick* and her face lights up

I would do anything for that REAL smile.

She’s so beautiful. All she has to do is smile.


Even if

When we heard the news.. We cried. We held each other close. We cried.

But honey, if you can’t do this. I’ll understand.
He held me close.
He said.
Even if you lose you hair. I’ll still kiss your beautiful scalp, every morning.
Nothing will change.
Even if your skin gets all dried up and doesn’t shine the same.
I’ll still hold your beautiful hand.
Even if you get sick on me. After your treatment.
I’ll still hold you and say it’s gonna be okay.
Even if your lips are no longer warm and red.
I’ll still kiss your beautiful lips. Nothing will change.
Even if you struggle to speak. I’ll be your words. So baby, scream!
Even if your amazing body gets fragile and sick.
I will still love you.
Just the same, nothing will change.

“No! I’ll love you more” he said.

No matter what, I’ll always love you more.

The doctor said, ” it’s cancer”


Funny thing about skin
It has scars; has to be able to withstand a beating. Cuts and scrapes and bruises.
But still, be covering your whole body.
The largest organ in our body if you think about it.
It helps us feel hot, cold and warm.
It’s sometimes soft and sometimes rough. It’s the bodies first defense against the whole world.
And it’s always there. We all have skin.
What if a person wants to shed their own skin.
Like they want to get out of their own skin.
It’s impossible.
Skin is always there.
I can only imagine how unhappy those people may be.


One time when I was younger I had a toy
Plastic, but I liked that toy.
I accidentally cracked the toy. And I was sad.
The toy was broken.
I gave it to my dad to fix it
He said “it can’t be fixed”
I didn’t understand.
Surely it could be fixed. So I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I tried glue, tape. Anything to make it the way it was before.
I was discouraged when I failed. Now looking back. What if a person were that broken.

All the glue and tape and determination in the world couldn’t fix them..

What if a person is that broken.
Would you try to fix them. Surly glue and tape wouldn’t work. What would you even use?
Would be discouraged when you failed?
Can a person be that broken?