The World on Fire


I, like most of you, have been fortunate enough to be born in a country and situation of stability. I have never heard the sounds of bombs dropping from the sky, I have never seen bodies blown to pieces, I have never watched a child deliriously cry after being pulled out of rubble and learning their parents have died. I have never had to worry about starvation. I have never had to worry about a mob of men raping me. I have never had to surrender my life to hopelessness. This is all because I was fortunate enough to be born in a place other than Aleppo, Syria. A place other than South Sudan. A place other than Yemen. A place other than Burundi. A place other than many other places in this world. Humanity’s shadow side is incredibly dark. However, the biggest disappointment is the complacency of those of us so far removed from the situation. The self-consumed attitude. As if what is happening over the Atlantic will never arrive at our door. As if we don’t have the foundations to birth a place of viable instability. As if we don’t have a responsibility to our fellow human beings. WTF humanity?!WTF?! “The world has always been on fire.” But that is because complacency has kept us all from believing we hold the bucket of water needed to extinguish it.

Hateful Heart


In a hateful heart
Lives a frightened soul
One that sees the world
Wearing a blindfold

In a hateful heart
Lives a lost dream
One that feels defeated
A battle told by screams

In a hateful heart
Lives a gleam of light
One that casts a shadow
Distracting days to night

In a hateful heart
Lives an untold ending
One whose path can change
When LOVE begins its mending

Humans of New York: Sharing Stories from refugees in Europe

Humans of New York (HONY) is currently sharing stories from refugees in Europe. These are stories that need to be read and shared. It is easy to remain disconnected from what is happening across the sea or across the border, but we are ONE world, ONE human race, ONE love.

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The extent to which refugee children have been conditioned by their environment is heartbreaking. We wanted permission to take this young girl’s photograph, so we asked if her mother was nearby. Her eyes filled with the most uncontrollable fear that I’ve ever seen in a child. ‘Why do you want my mother?’ she asked. Later, her parents told us how the family had crouched in the woods while soldiers ransacked their house in Syria. More recently they’d been chased through the woods by Turkish police. After we’d spent a few minutes talking with her parents, she returned to being a child and could not stop hugging us, and laughing, and saying ‘I love you so much.’ But I went to sleep that night remembering the terror on her face when we first asked to speak to her mother.

Who are you to judge?

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Who are you to judge my skin?
To be prejudice
to the body I am living in?

Who are you to judge my love?
To blindly hate on
this beautiful gift from above?

Who are you to judge my God?
to cast your stones
and call my creed a fraud?

Who are you to judge my dreams?
to mock the
future I plan to redeem?

Who are you to judge my story?
to celebrate my
failures and find fault in my glory?

Who are you to judge me so?
Oh now I see.
You are the one I point my finger to
forgetting three of those point right back at me.