Do you really think the law makers opposing Shari’ah law will care to promote our way? Do you think Glen Beck and Pat Robertson will change what they say about Imams arrested for praying in an airport, or about the one who was attacked on a subway?
Passion rising.
Blood boiling.
Fist clenching.
I will not weep.
I will fight.
I will pick up my pen and splash ink all across the bullets of Islamophobia that are aimed against me,
Against the Muslim Ummah,
Against us all as a community.
Yes, I mourn over the chief of martyrs, but not like you do.
His pain and sacrifice drives me to more than tears:
It rips through my heart, fuels me to action
To rise up against the injustice perpetrated against Muslims.
Do not be oblivious my fellow Muslims,
Step out from the box that caves you in.
Strife is all around us.
Against Muslims ignorance must not win.
Yes here, right outside your box my dear, our rights are being infringed.
Do you not see this is what he fought for?
You claim you would have helped had you but been there,
Well, why now do you sit up on your shelf without a care?
While airports scan our women,
Think of lady Zainab in the bazaar of Shaam.
When bombs and graffiti are thrown at mosques,
Think of the flames that burned the tents on the Evening of Desolation.
When a taxi cab driver is shot because he’s Muslim, and little Muslim children are tormented at school,
Think of princess Sakina and her uncle and what they all went through.
Do you really believe your tears will change the oppression in the world today?
Do you really think the law makers opposing Shari’ah law will care to promote our way?
Do you think Glen Beck and Pat Robertson will change what they say
About Imams arrested for praying in an airport, or about the one who was attacked on a subway?
Rise my dear Muslims.
Why do we so placidly lay,
Busy with annual traditions
Focused only on going to mosque from day to day?
Lady Zainab, my model,
An eloquent woman undaunted by fear or trial,
Was not afraid to speak out
Against the injustices that prevailed.
Undaunted by men or masses,
Even with none by her side,
Sure and firm was her footing,
All she needed was Allah as her guide.
Year after year it wears on me –
The lectures that urge us to do more.
Yet why have the schools no listing of our holy days,
Barely a mention is textbooks or prose?
Why do we care more about serving biscuits and tea
While with malice the tea party thrives?
Why are we all living in a box
Until the FBI arrives?
Then we get flustered to make our case.
Will it take an event to jolt us there?
Why are we lackadaisical
About the danger the Muslim Ummah is in today?
Who do we think will fix it?
Who was Hussain ibn Ali’s last call for,
When he said “Is there any helper to help us?”
Will we not rise up and strive to do more?
