Spanish and I have a close-knit relationship. To some extent, I could even say that Spanish and I grew up together.

No one needs to change to become a Christian. All they have to do is show up as themselves. This is the kind of Christianity that I believe in, the kind that nestles in our hearts.

In eighth grade, I was forced to live without my grandma after her sudden death. In eighth grade, I received my first pair of glasses.

It took me years to realize that there was no such house with the qualities I wanted, at least not yet. I decided to adapt like I had always done and built my own house: one that is accepting of both my Egyptian culture and heritage and my American identity. One that I desired to live in.

I've plagiarized my life by losing my Arabic. It was something I once knew and something that once 'belonged' to me. After losing it, I can't say it is mine anymore. I became a burglar in my own language.

Fingers as a medium became a data line, connecting my brain to the paper, and words became data transferred to my body.

Although those around me would argue that poetry is comparable to fishing in the sea – a dark, unknown, chaotic abyss, remaining at the pier for hours on end with no promise of reward – it feels instead as though I am fishing for the stars.

I thought having a long name was just like having a short one. It was just a name. I didn’t see any difference in it, but they sure did.

“Why immigration law? Well, I would like to begin by saying that my life, in most aspects, has been very easy.”