Fig Tree

The fig tree by the house with no backyard

Always welcomed me

It was comforting and warm

Teaching me

A child I was

Not knowing death nor life

It taught me eternity

The fig tree in my grandmother’s house

Will always live within me


I wondered if he’d forgotten

As we fell from the sky

As our form touched the sands

And our being materialized

I wondered if I too will forget

The reason I chose this body

Will I soon regret

The heaviness it brings

As gravity sinks

It’s teeth into my bones

Then I blinked twice

And I remembered


After my first cry


Foggy Mornings

Foggy morning

Tall grass

I lay awake

Raindrops covering my face

My roots grow to the sky

As I lie

Reaching to the God I can not see

Foggy morning days

Chill my bones

Foggy morning days

Call me home

And I dare not resist

Poisonous Plants

Did you plant this vine

The one that poisoned your hand

Did you set it free in your garden, in your land


This poison that you can’t seem to find

Is crippling your mind

Like that vine

That someone else planted

When their entrance was never granted

But their thoughts slipped away

Finding roots in your bay

And you allowed them to stay

Cause you needed the company


Until your body was covered in a rash

And your mind started to dash

Across the negativity of their thoughts

Can you now realize

That you are not ill

That there’re poisonous plants, still

Lingering in your garden, in your mind

Rid away with them all

And stand


Once more


Some days I crave a sun so bright

Instead of Memphis rain

And people that can say my real name

Some days I feel my skin turning back

A darker shade close to black

And I hear my roots calling me home

But most days I know I am not alone

In feeling so far away from home

We’re all immigrants after all

Waiting for the call

To return to heaven

The Moon

I rushed to meet the full moon

As I could finally see her face

A month of waiting could not be replaced

And as the moon turn around I knew

The rock looked much like you

My imaginary childhood friend

You survived this long

You were with me till the end

I wondered how your face was never changed

From Iraq to America

And somehow it did not feel strange

To befriend the moon

Important Announcement!

Hello friends, reader and fellow writers!

The ebook version of my book Stranger Paths, The Magic in The Madness is FREE on Amazon today and the next 2 days!

I would love to see it in your library and hear your thoughts about my journey from Iraq to America, from war to hope.

I hope you join the child I was, as she stood watching missiles brighten the darkness of her village, smiling as she hopes for a change. I hope you see the positivity leaking through my pages bit by bit as poems continue on. I wish to share the untold story of my people, of the civilians at war, of the children that had no choice but to accept their fate.

Our days are numbered but our numbers mean that we have survived so much, that we’re all the same.

The Numbers (Working Title)

Draft 1

Episode 1

The explosion would have been heard miles away, if the laboratory facility wasn’t hidden in remote woods somewhere in this earth. Trees burned bright as the metal-enforced concrete shattered extending beyond the dark forest to the mountains surrounding the laboratory. Ashes filled the night sky as we rushed out of our cells. Might have been thousands of us in that vast pale-yellow building, but I only saw few of us run outward. The rush of the escape left us no time to look for our mates nor count how many of us survived the explosion. I ran fast, forgetting that I can teleport. And as more and more of us escaped we joined in a group. We don’t know our birth dates but Four was our leader at the moment. He was pointing us to a safe cave miles from the explosion. We had been running for 10 miles, at least, but I didn’t feel tired at all. I wanted to keep running. Four grabbed my thin left arm firmly and pushed me inside the cave.

“We must rest and gather our thoughts.” he said.

“But they might come after us!” I yelled jerking my arm away.

“Where’s 21, your mate?” Four asked me.

I looked around at the dark cave, only few of us made it here few identical uniforms. Pale-yellow loose pants and baggy shirts, some uniforms were stained with blood, others stained with a mixture of black and red. Making the numbers on their backs impossible to read. I finally said:

“I don’t know. He… he wasn’t in his cell tonight.”

“Let’s rest, take a head count. OK?” He said as he looked down to me.

He was, maybe 6 feet and 3 inches tall. That is a foot taller than I am. Also he was a much stronger man, physically, than anyone I have ever met. I nodded agreeing with his remark. I walked among the pale yellow uniforms, trying to find my mate, 21. But he was nowhere to be found. The darkness of the cave didn’t help my search, but I already knew he wasn’t there. The magnetic pull I feel when he’s around is no more. He must be very far away, extremely far. I thought.

I sat in a corner of the cave holding my knees to my forehead, trying to silence the chaos around me, trying to connect with 21. If 9 was here, she’d help me find him. She’s a stronger telepath than any of us but I see no odds, only even numbers are here. I make out 4, 8, 10 and me, 22. All others seem to blend together, injured or bruised. 8 sat next to me and whispered: “Did you notice that you’re the only one without a cut or a bruise?” he paused expecting an answer. I picked up my head that was resting on my knees and said nothing.

“People will start to talk.” 8 added.

“I don’t care, go away.” I replied with a muffled voice as I rested my head on my knees.

“I don’t mind cutting you, if you’re into that?” said 8 flirtatiously.

I didn’t move my head to acknowledge his stupid suggestion. Then 4 approached us, standing tall he said: “There are far fewer of us than I thought.”

I said: “All evens, right?”

He looked at me with shock “yes, you’re right. All evens.”

“well, the odds house sucks anyways. Who needs them?” 8 said.

“our mates are odds. All of us need our mates.” I said.

“I don’t! I haven’t seen 7 since they…” said 8 as he was interrupted by 4.

“8 we don’t need your life story right now.”

“I’m just saying, I’m single and now free. And little 22 finds herself single finally.”

I yelled “I’m not single, my mate is on the other side of the freaking mountain. I will find him!”

I got up and dusted off my pants angrily. I walked out of the cave looking down on the tops of pine trees as the sun started to rise, slowly. I took a deep breath and smiled. I am free, I realized. Sure, 21 is not here and most of my friends aren’t either but at least 4 was there. I can always count on 4, I thought. Then I was startled by 4 putting his hand on my shoulder. I looked up and patted the earth next to me motioning him to sit down. He sat next to me and rested his head on mine “what are we going to do now?” he said. I put my hand on his knee and smiled “We’ll live! Do things people do.” “We’re not meant for living, 22. We’re meant for…” I interrupted turning my body to face his, biting my lips I said: “No one can tell us what we are made to do anymore! No one but us. So don’t justify our existence based on what experiments we were meant to be.” I leaned over and hugged him, and he hugged me back. The sunrise added warmth to our embrace. I fell asleep in his arms and he dared not move, so he watched the rays of the sun multiplying through the tops of the trees until we were consumed by light.

We were all more exhausted than we thought, as the adrenaline wore off we all fell asleep soaked by day light.


Walking Desert

I never thought it a desert

Nor did I ever judge the sands

I thought it a home

That I could hold in the palm of my hands

Sticking to my curly hair

And the shoes I wear

I became a walking desert

Completely unaware

Of the sands of my people

Clinging to my form

I wore as proudly as a soldier

Wearing his uniform