We became like any ruins or any junkyards ,                                                             We were beaten to death ,                                                                                                  We were kicked out for nothing ,                                                                                    We were trodden upon violently ,                                                                                    We were deprived of our happiness ,                                                                              We were stripped of our real names ,                                                                             We were asked to keep silent ,                                                                                          We were slapped on our faces hard ,                                                                                    We were left hungry and thirsty everywhere ,                                                                  We were gunned down like birds ,                                                                                We were assassinated like in real movies ,                                                                    We were left homeless and displaced to die ,                                                            We were thrown like trash-bags in those ugly tents ,                                                 We were denied our basic things , but                                                                         We have only God ....                                                                                                       We have only God ....                                                                                                   We don't have anyone else except God ...                                                                    There is no else except God ...                                                                                     _____________________

I was born into a
Hall of wooden pews and
Sundays full of crinkling satin bows,
Confronted by a stern-faced woman with iron grey curls
Tighter than her heart.
I remember very little of those
Sunday rooms, mazes of correct answers and long half-hours
I was raised through new pews,
Carpeted halls and
Long hours with brown haired ladies
A book 1200 pages thick of
Tradition and my mother's folded hands as I peek
From under my bowed head,
Earning sharp reprimands from white  robed men.

I saw them,
Of course,
Walking in Dearborn, Detroit, Ann Arbor, far away lands of unrest, but
They weren't in little, white, homogenous Chelsea, Michigan,
Of course,
Not them.
Yet I marveled at soft amber skin
And deep chocolate eyes full of
More galaxies than I ever knew existed,
Split solar systems of hushed mosques and mosaics that I was never
Allowed to see.

But I loved it.

My room became a tiny haven,
My dusty mirror showing a soft headscarf wrapped carefully,
Gently,
Over flyaway frizz,
Green cotton matching hazel eyes.
I knew not the complexities,
So I faked them,
Simply kneeling because I could not
Remember all the beautiful
Dances of prostration to praise another name of God.
Foreign syllables try to roll from my strangely
English tongue; I never realized how
Odd and stiff my born language is,
Too full of contradictions and
Double entendres, strict lines of black and white
Inky blood spilled on snowy sheets of paper,
Ancient characters telling me how to live my life.
As far as I'm concerned,
Allah (swt) and God are just two names
For the same deity,
And I simply preferred
Fajr
Dhuhr
'Asr
Maghrib
'Isha
Over the Lord's Prayer and
Hail Mary.
My rosary beads were quiet patches of rakaahs
Though I could not pronounce any of the words.

I kept secrets too heavy to lift into the
Dark recesses of my mental hiding-holes
Instead dwelling in discrepancies and dealing in bargains.
Half of me fit perfectly to each,
A blasphemous picture of the ****** Mary
Transposed to the cover of a Qur'an
I had never opened, like the
Guilt-edged pages of Bibles growing weary
Under my desk.
Two irreconcilable pieces of religion,
Broken images of stained glass crowns
That can't be formed into the intricate patterns of an
"Exotic" heart.
So for today I pack away my rakaahs and prostrations in a wooden box,
And take up my cross again.
Someday, though,
My heart will chase itself through the five pillars,
And I will shake out the green cotton,
Wrapping it carefully over a flyaway soul.

You've made a mockery of our beliefs,
And our prophet you defame.
I think and think and think,
From this, what is your gain?

We stand for peace and mercy,
We always have and will.
The actions of some may scar us,
While they remain sinful.

I will condemn their actions,
As every human should.
But apologies I will not,
For its not under Islam's hood.

I can't claim responsibility,
For something I've not done.
Neither can I say sorry,
For its not part of my religion.

Anyone can say 'Allah',
And do atrocities in His name.
But what of those 1.6 billion Muslims,
Who His name they rightly claim?

I have only one request,
That I'd kindly wish you do,
Look beyond the hate and hurt,
And see Muslims are just like you.
Peaceful. Loving. Caring.
We have families too.
Islam is a religion of peace,
Peace be on to you.