By: Justoju

My family is dying from bombs that come flying
Down upon the children who stoop to drink
By the river that has been polluted by chemical poisons
That has already drowned humanity’s links.
Rapists are stealing from my sisters and forcing them to take
Babies that they never wanted to make
That will be called ‘bastards’ for their entire lives
And proof that their mother’s were not ‘pure white’.
The houses are burning from fires caused by fighters
Who see the toys and blankets as terrorist tools
That could give the children a childhood to use
To ‘illegally’ have a life that is happy and unconfused.
My brothers are committing zina with all of their body
That is old enough for masturbation but not old enough for ‘shaadi’
That is old enough to die in wars but not old enough to love and live
In a materialistic Ummah where in-laws sort dollars with a sieve.
My sisters are forgetting the confidence of our high Mothers
Who knew their greatest beauty lay in between supplicating fingers
Who knew their greatest victory lay in the smile of submission
That gave rise to the subsequent generations of Muslims.
Brothers are busy fighting each other in video games
Carelessly squandering their precious testosteronic drive for
Justice On a field in which both wins and losses defeat one’s purpose
Of making the reality in which they are needed a road to success.
World ‘peace-makers’ are robbing our resources, sensibilities and will
Dizzying us with new desires for tight pants, shiny cars and brand names
That will help us feel like we have reached some prestige in a Duniya
That makes us believe that Islamic fundamentalism is to blame.
Our terrestrial Amanah is gasping, choking from synthetic fumes
That were created in factories where my children are abused
By rich capitalists who father and are fathered by their wallets
That see my destiny’s children as liable ‘accidents’.
I am dying daily from these sacrilegious abuses to man’s honor
The dying, stealing, burning, committing, forgetting, fighting, robbing, gasping
All occurring within my body’s innermost sanctuaries and recurring
My only hope resting in a world unborn yet waiting,
A world waiting within the developing womb
Of our awakening.

Advertisements