Theme for English I.B.

The teacher said, Go home and jot down a poem tonight. And let that poem come out of you--- Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that clear cut? I am sixteen, Muslim, born in Detroit. I never stayed to live there, so I came to suburbia, then came here to this academia on the west side of Square Lake, passed my home Troy. I am the only niqaabi girl in my town. The cliffs from this mountain lead down into the depths of my soul through my mind, then I find my heart, Spirituality Avenue, Seventh municipality, and then I come to the reality, the cruel, cruel reality, where I struggle with the soul’s specialty… into my room, gotta sit down, to write this poem: It’s not easy to know what’s true for you or me at sixteen, my age. But I guess I’m what I feel and need and realize, Islam, I need you: Need you, for me---we two---you, me, connected in the spirit. (But I hear America scream too.) Me---who? Well, They think I’m a preacher, a hater, and an instigator of violence. But They don’t know it hurts me to the core And that I’m sick and tired of war And that I cry to you Oh God in the silence Prayin for the fate of the world to rid it of tyrants They don’t know nothin about me, That I like to pray, read, learn, and be passionate about life. I like a janamaaz for a Ramadan present, or a beautiful dua from a fellow brother or sister---Brown, Black, or White. I know being Muslim doesn’t make me not human the same way other folks are like, who are other religions. Sometimes perhaps you don’t want me to be a part of America. But I am, that’s real! So will my poem be about Islam that I write? Being me, you better believe it It will be American It will be Islam It will be Muslim It will be true It will be me. And this is my poem for English I.B. The meaning of specific Islamic terms in this poem: niqaabi- Muslim female who veils her face Janamaaz- a prayer rug Dua- a prayer