Poem-A-Week

When you are a second class citizen
the severity of your tragedies are decided by the
Wicked of the West.
This might be harsh,
But so is the impact of an explosion,
a bride taking her wedding photos
flung back against cobblestone like rag doll.
I sit in the west,
west side of my complex watching-
on a pity richter scale, they clutch their pearls
In the west, they scan FOX news for the
antifa antifa antifa.

I watched a movie one time with the subtitles on,
as the background sang in farsi
italicized font read:
{singing in Muslim}
I could not contain my laughter until I remembered-

who else is cackling, who else has no context of this ignorance?
So when I say in the west,
I mean how they have weaponized your language
how your arabic is a rifle when convenient,
but flavorful when it's pronounced on a menu.
I mean how you are still labeled a war zone,
Except when her veil slips, terror is arousing.
(lovers tied me to the bedpost and crowned me mia khalifa )
A third world country, still in it’s industrial phase.

 

They do not care about your history, your accolades, your accomplishments-
They do not care
I am divisive because their survival has never depended on compassion.
my name is fury and I tremble when I speak
I am privileged that I shake from rage
and not the fear of loaded tanks billowing into my home.
          كبايغ نم انملعت

    - we have learned from your absence