يقيناً كُلّهُ خير

One year has passed since Sayyed Ebrahim Raisi and his companions rose to the rank of martyrs.

From the classrooms of Qom to the presidential office in Tehran, he marched faithfully in the footsteps of the Commander of the Faithful, Imam Ali ibn Abi Talib (AS), conducting both his presidential and his religious, preaching duties. Crowned Servant of al-Reza, he never let statecraft eclipse humility; power, to him, was worth only what it could shelter of the oppressed.

Raisi’s voice traveled farther than his nation’s borders. Across fronts, hopes are tested by countless atrocities, but the embers of resistance still glow, guarded by hearts that remember his words:

The enemy does not fear your weapons; the enemy fears you yourselves.

Thus the axis he helped nurture moves through trial as the caravan of Al-Husayn (AS) once moved through Karbala: sacrifice as strategy, steadfastness as sword. Towns may burn and companions may fall, yet the creed endures—hayhāt minnā al-dhillah, never to humiliation!

His helicopter fell on 19 May 2024, but every drop of his blood watered new resolve, whether in Tehran, in the foothills of Yemen, the stubborn villages of Lebanon, in the pride of our nation Gaza, or in Jenin’s winding streets, and in the camps where the dream of return remains. The compass he left us points unerringly to Al-Quds, and the oath he modeled remains: defend the vulnerable, resist tyranny, and never trade dignity for ease.

We renew that oath today. Whether triumph is granted or sacrifice demanded, we advance—certain that all unfolds within a wisdom greater than our own.

سَلَامٌ عَلَىٰ إِبْرَاهِيمَ
كَذَٰلِكَ نَجْزِي الْمُحْسِنِينَ
إِنَّهُ مِنْ عِبَادِنَا الْمُؤْمِنِينَ

"We will never regret October 7th."
An elderly man in Jabalia camp in the northern Gaza Strip expresses himself sends one message to Netanyahu, and another message to Arabs.

Ziad Rahbani, the iconic musician, playwright, composer, and son of the legendary Lady Fairuz, has passed away today at the age of 69.

Ziad was more than a musician, an artist, he was the voice of a people. Through his music, his plays, his songs, and his free spirit, we learned to love the homeland.

He spoke for the poor, the forgotten, the oppressed, as one of them. He translated their daily struggles into art, so we may continue to live, to strive, and to hope.

Ziad was a core of the Lebanese cultural heritage and will continue to be for as long as this country exists.

A bold supporter of the Lebanese resistance, he expressed deep love and respect for Hezbollah on several occasions. When asked if his mother Fairuz, supports the resistance he replied without hesitation: "Of course! If she wasn't with the resistance, there would be a problem between me and her. I wouldn't be able to compose for her, and she knows this very well." Ziad wrote or arranged almost half of Fairuz's thousands of songs.

Hezbollah and the PFLP issued statements expressing condolences for his loss, praising him as a "resistant national artistic figure" who used his art to serve the homeland and humanity. The PFLP said Ziad was a "national conscience" through his art, to uplift the marginalized and reject injustice and sectarianism.

Despite all efforts to drag Lebanon towards normalization and surrender, the country's true identity continues to shine through its heritage, and through real Lebanese patriots. In the words of Ziad, true patriotism is to be against "israel."

On the one-year anniversary of your martyrdom, Sayyed. 

What words could possibly give you justice?

Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah: the fighter, the leader, the great, the legend, the immortal.

All these words about you are true; yet you would most definitely hate to hear them.

You were always proud to be one of the people, one with the people. They loved and welcomed you. You weren’t just one of them; you were them. Ask anyone in this crowd and they would give their life to bring you back, even for a minute.

Our beloved Sayyed: our most painful sacrifice, our greatest loss, our biggest pride.

The enemy thinks it broke us. And it’s true that we did feel broken. We still do.

But look at the crowds. All these people speak one language: we will resist, we will rise, we will avenge.

The false entity of the colonizers will perish. Our future is to remain here, on this land.

On the one-year anniversary of your martyrdom:

Congratulations, Sayyed, on your martyrdom. May peaceful heaven embrace you warmly.

After you ascended, a fighter who later became a martyr said to his comrades, “Hasten! Heaven now has Sayyed Hassan.”

We have sat long with sadness over the events of the past two years, and we have come to peace with the idea that the answer is not to refuse to feel broken; it’s to channel our feelings into determination. A determination to follow your path, to avenge you, what you were martyred for, our people, our land. Bleeding Gaza.

You are not dead. Martyrs never die. You have created within each of us a version of yourself that will remain for generations, carrying your blood, your banner, your goals and walking the same path as you.

Until we meet again, dear Sayyed.

We remain on the pledge, O Nasrallah.