You swallow my name like gravel and spit it out like a landslide.
Shovel your insecurities on me until I am left feeling dirtier than
the names you give me when I turn my back.
Terrorist, Jihadist, murderer, psycho, fundamentalist, beast.
Who are you?
What do you know of my religion who has taught me that
pointing fingers is rude, who has raised me to know better
than to throw knives at people who aren't looking?
So to you, I say peace.
You look at me confused, not understanding that
I do not carry suicide blueprints in my coat pocket,
I do not use the words "hate" and "America" in the same sentence,
Even though my people are dying every day, every second,
without a single camera to show for it, but plenty to camouflage,
expecting me to throw my "barbaric" beliefs" at you,
I am not not a pickaxe, I am not a walking landline,
I do not worship the blood of the soaks into this country's soil,
my country's soil,
but its people have made me their enemy,
and to them I say peace.
I will not apologize for being a Muslim. I will not simplify myself to a smaller number just because you find it “safer” to count my factors, so you feel more “comfortable” knowing my place. The lives you mourn are the same lives which I mourn. In case you have forgotten, I am human too. Just in case you need reminding, the people of my faith suffer just as greatly as anyone else, as we have been for years; Syria, Palestine, Gaza, Iran, Iraq, Pakistan. But apparently the blood of women, children and innocents who are Muslim did, and still do, fail to reach the “important” level on the scale of humanity, as if the term “just Muslim” is to say we are objects the world could without, in fact, better without.
Peace to you, world. Peace to you.
Written by The Poetical Arsonist