With These Words, I Rise

With These Words, I Rise

By Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

I’m not chasing crowns, not seeking stages. I don’t want to be worshiped or remembered for power. That’s not my calling. My spirit wasn’t crafted for thrones it was made to kneel in prayer, to walk humbly with purpose, and to lift those who’ve forgotten how high their soul can reach. I’m not here to conquer I’m here to care. And with this pen in my hand, I will carve my truth into mountains, so generations long after I’m gone will still hear the echo of these words: you are seen, you are sacred, you are not alone.

I come from a lineage of strength and quiet wisdom people who didn’t have much, but had everything that mattered. Their hands were worn but blessed, and their hearts were steady. They taught me that no matter where you’re from be it the hills of Palestine, the fields of Mississippi, the corners of cities or the quiet of villages every soul carries divine breath. Black, White, Brown, Native, Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Gentile we’re not strangers. We’re pieces of the same spirit, scattered across the earth to remember each other.

We were born to help, not to harm. To share joy, not misery. Yet somewhere, humanity lost its rhythm. Greed entered like a storm, loud and demanding, and it buried the softer voice of compassion. We built walls where we once built bridges. We feared each other instead of embracing each other. And in all our gaining, we forgot the most precious thing: how to feel. How to love without agenda. How to sit in silence with someone and just be present.

Technology moved fast, but our hearts slowed down. We’ve got machines that can feed millions, yet people still go hungry. We’ve got wisdom at our fingertips, but many walk around cold, numb, disconnected. Our cleverness outpaced our kindness. And the world got louder, but less human. Less soul.

But I still believe. I believe in the good earth beneath us, in its ability to provide for all without prejudice. I believe in the sun that warms every skin shade the same. I believe in the prayers whispered in the dark by mothers, by children, by men trying to find their way back to themselves. I believe that the Spirit by whatever name you call it is still listening. Still guiding. Still present.

What we need is not more noise, but more light. Not more strategy, but more sincerity. More than brilliance, we need blessing. And that blessing is inside us it always has been. The blessing is when we choose mercy over retaliation, softness over pride, truth over convenience. That’s when we start to remember what it means to be truly alive.

And now, with all the tools we’ve been given planes that touch the sky, voices that travel the globe we have a choice. Will we use them to build unity or division? Will we raise our voices in rage or in prayer? Will we become more connected, or just more distant?

To you reading this, wherever you are in a moment of peace or pain please hear me: don’t despair. This world can be heavy, but it’s not hopeless. What we’re seeing is not the end. It’s the shaking before the awakening. The tightening before the breakthrough. The chaos before the clearing. The bitterness you feel around you it’s just fear masquerading as power. And fear has a short shelf life when faced with truth.

So I write, not to be seen, but to reveal. I write because the world needs more soul scribes, more truth-tellers, more spirit-walkers who are unafraid to love boldly and speak honestly. With every stroke of my pen, I aim to awaken something eternal in you. Not just a thought but a knowing. A remembrance. A stirring of something ancient and beautiful within your chest.

I don’t have all the answers. I’m just a man shaped by spirit, loss, hope, and a thousand unspoken prayers. But I know this much: you were created in love. You were designed with intention. And your pain is not proof that you’ve been forgotten it’s just a reminder that you’re still growing, still becoming, still being refined.

So may you walk in grace. May you be protected in every season. May you stand tall, even when your knees feel weak. And may you always know that somewhere, someone is praying for your peace and I am that someone.

With love,

Kateb Nuri-Alim Shunnar

Don’t walk away the best is yet to come.