PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

asSINalation


asSINalation. The Duhr athan had caught me off guard during a futile attempt to blend in with the Christmas cheer. I pressed the silence button at least 4 times after the first “Allah-hu-Akbar” and could not decide if I was more ashamed of their judgmental eyes or that I had silenced the call to prayer. Later that day the happiest cashier at my local Stater Brothers asked if I had finished my Christmas shopping and I said yes. “Yes I have finished. Thank GOD!” This wasn’t exactly a lie because because as a Muslim I had never planned to begin so in reality I was done before the season began. Or, maybe it was a lie that I told because I’m tired of explaining the impossible criteria that must be met before stoning anyone accused of adultery; or the ayat that comes before and after the infamous “Kill the infidesl” argument. I did not want to steal her smile by forcing her to think about the ostracizing question she had been using to pass the time and so I lied. I did not want to go through explaining why I do not celebrate Christmas as I watched her eyes recall vivid memories of hate driven articles that are circulated like HIV throughout the 90’s. I did not want to be seen as an enemy to her way of life for a few seconds so instead, I became an enemy to myself. I forged a 3 second identity that melted like ice cream during a childhood summer as soon as I spoke those 6 words. "Thank GOD" I said, but at the time I was not sure if I was talking about hers or mine and so I wondered if assimilation is a crime in the eyes of Allah. "Have I denied my beliefs? Did I ignore a call?" Parked in my garage I was lost because God and I haven’t spoken in so long. It’s as if my life took a turn and so I said, “So long! It was great to meet you and thanks for all your help, but I’ve got it from here”. Just because I flex my cheek muscles from ear to ear does not mean I’m smiling; it is my way of showing the world it has not won despite my losing streak.
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

thisispoetryproject

Blessed to have the opportunity of being a Poetry Mentor on this one-of-a-kind online society! I'm 20 years old. Live in Anahein, CA. I write to express my thoughts and reveal the lessons I have learned. One day, I will perform across the world and share my path. l www.youtube.com/thisispoetryproject l www.thisispoetryproject.org l facebook.com/thisispoetryproject l Follow me @HamzaYammout

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (1)

MarCel Terry
My poems come from a musical style so it would be awesome if you could give me your opinion on them

Log in to leave a comment.