3 july 1974. 3 july 1978 3 july 1999 3 july 1996 3 july 2011 3 july 2007 3 july 1952 3 july 1941 3 july 1906 3 july 1912 3 july 1499 3 july 641 3 july 4300 b.c.e
threes...because ALLAH is connected with through odd numbers, undivisible by race class gender sexual orientation...
my struggle is the fabric i've come to adorn, the pumas and skinny jeans, v-neck grey fading tee and mane of hair rolling over my head like a tidal wave in a the middle of a desert....bald and eagling through seasons of life...seasoned only through You...
bow down to You...and harangued by crowds of u.s. mother of bombs, turned into rubble and debris in the same earth your ancestors are buried in...
...you just killed yourself when you dropped that bomb you dropped and album dedicated to death...if only they would think, the Recitation repeats like a chorus, like a hook, like a head nodding...
nod when i see You...when i hold my hands in anjali mudra and salute me in you and you in me ad infinitum...all praise is duing...always all praise is duing for this opp...
what's the opp? this time it's to become, to crack the shell of this cocoon that i've come to wear like probation ankle bracelets, looking out the window for the p.o. wondering if he spotted my crufew break...wanting to sit down and explain to him that it was to pray...to bow down...in the forest, in the mosque of ALLAH...wanting to explain to you that my words are channels of existence in realms that float and not me...
but alright...
it'll be alright...more than all right...
reach...High...reach...got it...
No comments:
Post a Comment