By Nashrah Tanveer

Hope like Ibrahim, who was disowned by his


And thrown into fire by his father.

Third degree burns were on his heart, not body.

He was saved and awakened,

He wandered towards truth,

That was waiting to be discovered by him,

Someplace he didn’t think he belonged.

Hope like Sarah and Lot,

Who followed him into great unknown.

Hope like Asiah, Queen of Egypt,

Who rebelled against her tyrannical husband,

She had everything,

But wanted nothing at stake of others.

She supported her adopted son, Musa,

To start a revolution.

To reach the land of Promise,

She was the who made Musa who he was.

Hope like hope isn’t an expectation,

But a probability that pushes those,

Who are courageous enough to jump

Into the fire of harsh reality,

For what they believe in.

Hope makes them wander

Without a map or destination,

Just hope that they will be

Where they’re supposed to be,

It makes them abandon their beliefs

That comprise others’ freedom.

Hope like those who hope

Even before they understand it or label it.

It’s not an assumption or fantasy,

It is a feeling that makes you leave your bed everyday.

It makes you breathe in probabilities,

And breathe out realities.

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