FIRE

The minute I laid eyes on you
HMR
I knew you were a
White devil
Triggering memories of ancestors
Veil secured firmly over your eyes
A testament to your arrogance and ignorance
A clear sign of the choices you have made

You, HMR, do not get the final word

You were chosen, it is true
Without competition
Because they knew you were the one
The company girl who would get the job done
Just like your ancestors
Holding down women who were crying out for justice
Just like your ancestors
Using religion to justify your abuse

The devil’s existence is nothing but his flaming ego

You hated me because
You hate God
A knowledge innate in my being
A knowledge you thought you could buy
With all that Ivy money spent searching through books
Regurgitating words to conjure meaning
Unable to speak anything more than gibberish

True, I could not feign my boredom
You knew I knew
You know nothing of God
Nor yourself
An amateur, tinkerer, master of nothing

A White devil nonetheless
Who lunged for my jugular vein
Since that is where God resides
You thought you could extinguish my fire
Burn my remains
A fire fueled by your jealousy and hatred of a knowledge
For which you are ineligible  

What does your book say about
Using religion to make a buck?

WATER

Water can purify
And it can kill

While I do wudu
You drown yourself in a poisonous elixir
To silence your own demon voice
That you mistakenly think is external
What is this privilege you speak of?

Allah is closer than your jugular vein
Which is why you always look like you are choking
Your gagging sweaty swollen face
gasping for air
The punishment promised
A seal on your heart and upon your hearing
Over your vision, a veil
With every vicious attack
Your heart becomes harder

What proof is there of what I say?
Water reflects
Those who surround us
reflections of who we are
You are flanked by a woman paid to
Bully rape victims of the priests
To whom you pledge allegiance
and a man planting informants in our communities
crafting legal arguments for torture and entrapment
Winning tawdry plastic medals
That make you weep for your love of what they represent
Purification rituals of your ancestors
Fully wired with a hood hanging out of your back pocket

As Fugazi said,
You’d make a great cop

CLAY

I spent year after year
Sitting at the wheel
Throwing balls of clay over and over
Not knowing why
One rakah after another
Not knowing why
But knowing it would bring me to this moment

Every potter knows that clay has memory
It remembers where it has been
Only the skilled eye can read its history
And hear its message
A request about how it ought to be molded

 I molded 99 clay vessels
To mold myself anew
Out of clay with so many painful memories

To communicate a primordial love
Each of the 99 names
Embedded as memories in 99 women
In each vessel
A guidepost to freedom and liberation
Our true calling

 TRANSFORMATION

I’ve always loved Judas
In some twisted realization that
Sometimes
Oppressors force us to make choices
About who we will be

You, HMR, are a Judas to so many
Who will read this
And know that I know
What you did to them too

I wish I had a magic wand
To transform your cold hardened heart
How powerful you could be

But even Judas had a role
To move a story forward
You made me choose a version of myself
I love more every day
A love of God
I didn’t fully understand

God is closer than your jugular vein
All I needed to do was touch mine
To remember
May I never forget again

It is a paradox that being enflamed
by a white devil
Can sharpen one’s vision like nothing else
And open a well of compassion in our heart
To heal the next victim

This does not justify what you did
But in my cosmic story
This is a gift that I received many times before
From your ancestors and mine too
Reminders of who I want to be

We all have to dance with our devil
If we truly want to be free

So thank you
HMR
For the gift you gave me

And never forget:
Judas had a choice
Just like you