Who knew that this scarf on my head
Could make the rope that will tie my noose?
Who knew that this stone that
Kisses my forehead could turn into
The ammunition to crack my skull?
Who knew that my loose clothes could
Let in enough air to tear it from my body?
Who knew that my enemies would have the power to define me, judge me and sentence me?
Who knew that love would label me guilty?
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 10:30 AM UTC
Who knew that this scarf on my head
Could make the rope that will tie my noose?
Who knew that this stone that
Kisses my forehead could turn into
The ammunition to crack my skull?
Who knew that my loose clothes could
Let in enough air to tear it from my body?
Who knew that my enemies would have the power to define me, judge me and sentence me?
Who knew that love would label me guilty?
This poem is about the oppression that Shia Muslims face not only by non-Muslims but also by other Muslim sects. It’s hard enough to be a Muslim, let alone a Shia.
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