...in the name of ALLAH, the Most Compassionate, the Most Merciful...
compassion and mercy left her face when she asked me to go handle it...the situation...the one with the dude at the club, the one who stood like a refrigerator from a guerilla plane in kabul, about to drop, to let go, to surrender into a purpose of fragments...
...the situation was that he was an asshole, that he was disrespectful, that he was a jerk, that he was a bad boyfriend...
...i was there as an elder in my 26...and before blind rage, before my eyebrows became knives, and my nose cocked like a trigger, before my tongue lashed scars...i asked her...what do you mean? how?
afterall, i didn't know anything about this dude...i only knew that she used some adjectives that were packed with a variety of connotation...and more importantly, i knew her character from our 2 days of hanging out as capricious, judgemental, dishonest...
...that is, there are people i place blind faith in, not because i wish to be ignorant of the whole picture, but because they are in the walk of jesus and muhammad, of gnadhi and x...just a word, and it's queens to brooklyn, mlk to che...
...came up to dude...refrigerator, my hands in anjali mudra, bowed down, bowed with love, from my Highest...to Yours...
he smiled, warm, his eyes the color of humility, his hand holding a glass of water...he was clearly out of place here, in the club...dragged here by a group of friends who wanted to celebrate an organizational victory over the police brutality incident in the bronx last year...
...hey brother...pardon, i said, i'd like to ask you a question...a couple questions... maybe a few, i said, coming close to his ear...was wondering if we could go for a walk...
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