What a year was 570 AD
A person was born, a prophet to be
Muhammed (saws) that was his name
People were misguided and thats when he came
He would go on to leave all the idols behind
He is an example to all of mankind

Rabbi al Awwal the 12th, that was the day
He came to this world to show us the way
He was born in Mecca, the holiest place
A life full of challenges he was to face
Abdullah (ra) his father, had by then passed away
Leaving Amina (ra) his mother, in her arms he lay

Haalima Sadia, took over his care
Until he was six, our prophet was there
His mother then died, he was left all alone
Abdul Muttalib (ra) his grand-dad then made him his own
When our prophet was nine, his grandfather died
Abu Talib, his uncle, became his new guide

In his 20's, a merchant Muhammed (saws) became by trade
Al-Amin, (the trustworthy) became his grade
Hazrat Khadija (ra) aged 40, became his bride
He was 25, with her by his side
To the poor,she gave away all her wealth
A dedicated wife in sickness and health

360 idols in the Kaaba, they were at that time
Our prophet realised that this was a crime
He would go to mount Hira,leaving behind his wife
Reflecting and wondering about the meaning of life

While thinking there in the midst of the night
He heard a loud voice which filled him with fright
It was the angel Gibrail(as) who asked him to read
Our prophet couldn't and didnt take heed
The angel embraced him and then asked him later
Read, Read in the name of the Creator
Who created man from a drop of blood

Our prophet couldn't read but at that time he could
Our prophet rushed to the path straight ahead
He heard a voice from the heavens which said
Muhammed (saws) truly you are the messenger of God
Muhammed (saws) was scared and thought this quite odd
'Praise be to God' his wife said instead
''I know you've been chosen as God's messenger' she said
And thus Khadija (ra) became the first woman of islam

And over the next 23 years came the revelation, the Quran
He preached to all people, every creed every race
Yet so many hardships he had to face
There were fears for his life, then the Hijrat took place
He then entered Medina, all by Allah's grace
He was greeted by the Ansaris who gave their salaam
To him and his companians,the Sahaba ikram

Then came the battles, which were fought face to face
Then the conquest of Mecca, Muhammed (saws)'s birthplace
An Nasr was revealed, it's message was clear
Muhammed (saws) knew that his time was near
Everyone gathered to hear his last speech
little did they know how far Allah's message would reach

Muhammed (saws) gave us the miracle the Quran
And now a 1/4 of the world follow Islam
He is our role-model, the best of mankind
And has left the Quran and his Sunnah behind

Read the Quran as much as you can
The words of Allah (swt) for the guidance of man
And follow our prophet's sunnah, when eating and dressing
And send him salutations and many a blessing
He came to mankind to show us the way
And Insha-Allah, we'll meet him, we'll meet him one day

A lone Muslim weeps alone
Mind entirely westernized
Heart in the Middle East
Shown by his father how to love
With faith of course
And to find peace with himself

A country built on blind pride
Unfortunately yields ideal life
Four planes taking ****** detours
Captained by servants of Allah
To die as martyrs in His name

The lone Muslim sits in a classroom
Silence during the 12th anniversary of 9/11
A peaceful religion forever stained
The teacher prints out pictures of Muhammed
And hands one to the Muslim with a smile
Almost asking for retaliation

Every night he prays to the clouds
Allahu-Akbar Allahu-Akbar
Identical with cries of the Taliban
Irony fills the air
As pictures of Muhammed come to mind

A lone Muslim surrounded by smiling bigots
Who can't help but ask if Jihad exists
Or question if Ramadan works
Judge his every move
And deny their prejudice

A lone Muslim weeps alone
As he remembers the day he lost his heart
The day conformity was shunned
A man rejected from love due to religion
Turns into a terrorist
And begins to walk with a suicide vest

Peace and love for everything
Now replaced by guns and hate
Political parties staining beautiful thoughts
Preaching American hate and Muslim supremacy
Things Allah would be proud of

My religion will always be stained

"Allah forbids you not
With regard to those
Who fight you not for Faith
Nor drive you out of your homes
From dealing kindly and justly with them
For Allah loves those who are just"

I broke up with God
at our favorite eatery
in our favorite booth.

We settled into familiar creases
and asked for the usual.

My eyes lazily staring at fingers
stirring the straw around the ice cubes,
God cautiously spoke up:

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing.” (Thinking about the dormant phone
concealing behind the lock screen
the open Facebook tab
lingering over the relationship status section.)

They silently mused over the laconic reply,
til the waitress showed up with the food.

“Thank you!” God blurted with agonizing alacrity.

I received the sustenance lifelessly
and aimlessly poked at the burgers and fries.

The waitress eyed me with vague inquisition,
popping a bubble in the gum between
big teeth, refilled my water
and pirouetted hastily.

We ate in ostensible harmony,
the silence gripping like a chokehold,
the visible anxiety and subdued resolve
settling like a stifling blanket
over the child waking
from a nightmare—

Til we couldn’t breathe,
and I ripped back the covers
and looked into the eyes
of my tormentor.

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

God, taken aback by the curt statement,
dropped their burger with shaking hands,
silently begging with wetting eyes
a greater explanation.

So I elaborated:

“It’s not you, it’s me.

For your immaculate conception
was created by human hands,

your adages rendered obsolete
by human words,

your purpose and plan for us
distorted by human nature—

I cannot hate myself any longer.

I cannot pretend to know you at all.

Who my mother and father say you are
is not who my friends think you are,
nor my teachers, my pastor,
the president, Stephen Hawking,
Muhammed, the KKK, Buddha,
the Westboro Baptist Church,
Walt Whitman, Derek Zanetti,
******,
and Billy Graham.

I am told you care who I bring into bed (and when),
and what movies I watch,
and what music I listen to—

I have not heard what you say about
child soldiers, the use of mosquitos,
or the increased destruction of the earth
which you proudly proclaimed your creation,
or the poverty and disease and famine
which has ridden so many of your children—”

God interjected,
“But you’re chosen!”

I snorted,

“You say I’m chosen
to spend eternity with you—
why me?

Why’d you pick me among
thousands, millions, billions?

I’ve been told I’m ‘chosen’
since birth
by others like me—

those with fair complexion,
blue eyes,
blonde hair,
a firm overt ****** attraction towards women,
and a great big house
with immaculate white fences
delineating their Jericho.

I’ve already fabricated eternity
here among the other ‘chosen’
and there is a world of suffering
right outside the fence
and I see them
through the window of my bedroom
every day.

Am I chosen,
if I don’t vote Republican

Am I chosen
if I am Pro-Choice

Am I chosen
if I cohabitate with my girlfriend

Am I chosen
if I never have kids

Am I chosen
if I say ‘Happy Holidays’

Am I chosen
if I don’t want public prayer in schools

Am I chosen
if I don’t want a Christian nation

Am I chosen
if I don’t repost you on my wall
or retweet your adages?

I’m tired
being the ubermensch,
for it has not brought me
happiness
and I blame you.

I will not ignore
the cries of the suffering
believing it is I
who is destined to live
in bliss.

I will not buy
Joel Osteen’s autobiography(ies).

I will not tithe
you my money
for a megachurch
when another homeless shelter
closes down.

I will not tell a woman
what to do with her body,
or a man
that he is a man
if they say they are not.

I am neither Jew nor Gentile,
and I will stand with
my brothers and sisters
of Faith and Faithlessness,

Gay and Straight,
Black and White,

and apart from these extremes
free from absolutes
the ambiguous, amorphous
nature of Humankind
which I praise.

There is much pain and suffering
in this world,
potentially preventable,
but hardly can I believe
it’s part of your plan
to save
me.

I will not be saved
if we are not
all saved—

not one will burn
for my divinity.

The gates will be open to all—
and perhaps you believe that too,
but I’ve gotten you all wrong
and that cannot change,
as long as there is
mortality, and
corruption, and
power, and
lust, and
greed.”

God whined, growing bellicose,

“It is through me that you will find eternity,
I am the one true god!
I am the God of your fallen ancestors,
it is because you have fallen short
that you need me!”

I replied, growing in confidence,

“We have all fallen short,
yes,
but we are also magnificent.

We have evolved,
we have created,
we have adapted,
we have survived.

We have built empires,
and we have destroyed them.

We have cured diseases,
and we have created them.

We have done much in your name.
We’ve done good,
and we’ve done evil—

And unfortunately it’s all about
who you ask.

Your name is a burden on the oppressed
and a weapon of the oppressor.

You are abusive, God.

You tell me you are jealous.

You tell me apart from you I will suffer for an eternity.

I’m scared to die, yet want to die,
because of you.

You have made life a waiting room
that is now my purgatory. It is

Hell On Earth.

So you see,
it’s not you,
it’s me—
a mere mortal
who has tried to put a face
to eternity
and it has left me
empty.

And also,
it’s me,
for I have learned to love me,
as I have expelled your self-loathing imbibition,
and the deleterious zeal
I have proclaimed
through ceaseless
trepidation
and self-flagellation—

I have learned to love me
by realizing I am not inherently evil,
that my body is not evil,
that my mind is not evil,
and, ultimately, that
there is no good
and there is no evil.

My body is beautiful,
my mind is beautiful,
this world is beautiful,
and we are destroying it
waiting for you to claim
us.

I leave you
in hopes to see you
again one day,

and perhaps you will look
different than I have
perceived or imagined,

and in fact
I certainly hope so.”

Just then the waitress strolled back up
with a servile smile:
“Dessert?”

“No, thank you,”
I smiled politely.

And with that,
I paid the check,
and took a to-go box—

walked out into the evening rain
to my car,
put on a secular song
that meant something real to me
and drove off
into the night—

feeling for the first time
free
and alive.