He does not talk to me, but relies on the news,
He sees men murder man and wants me to lose
all my rights, my beliefs, my faith, my blood,
He names me a disgrace, he calls my religion mud.
She does not engage me in long-held conversation,
about my views of the news or sexual orientation,
my hopes, my dreams, of equality, of peace,
She demands my worship stop or my heart cease,
How do I respond, when I’m quoted sections of scripture,
14 centuries of existence, “now terrorism a permanent fixture.”
I have not read those damning passages they preach,
what knowledge of Arabic, just out of my petite reach,
How do I explain, when there are no ears to listen,
that murderers of humans, do not shine in my religion,
that I would not hurl my fist at another in anger,
that my religion says not to strike friend or stranger,
that enemies are best dealt with words of peace,
to hurt one another, leaves My God displeased,
that hell shall be my quarters, my burning home,
if murder is the reputation I carry to my tomb.
Kindness, common threads, and to help are my aim,
lending hands to orphans and those in need my only game,
to smile as I traverse the world, is a reward in itself,
and each and every year, sharing 2.5 percent of my wealth,
Charity a foundation, a pillar, one fifth of my faith,
to be a better Muslim, some dress in a modest way,
Pilgrimage, fasting, prayer and declaration,
the other parts of my religious foundations,
Respect, love, tenderness and care,
I was taught these things, he and she don’t care,
They murder and kill and I’m called the same,
twisted and distorted, my faith is to blame,
Tattooing all 1.5 billion with the same needle,
enshrining us in darkness and blowing out our candle,
We protest for peace, for unity, my family and I,
they point and mock, discarding our plea as lie,
He and she do not approach me, they fear I am sin,
but they watch my every move, my friends, my kin,
as they spread their misunderstood verses down my street,
is there not a corner upon which we can meet?