A response piece to our Muslim families currently banned and torn from us.
--One by one
they throw the bodies in.
Never looking over the ironclad money built towers
to see the faces.
An old auntie once told me that if they come for them,
they'll come for us
cause they always come.
When they fear the tides of change-
that KKKKKRAACK! from Oya's whip-
Where they fear the magic of the she-
whether gifted or crafted,
earth made or self made,
When they hear the roars of the mother languages of homelands they'll never know,
When they see who carries the people-
the tired, the lost, the dark, the foreign, the dwellers inbetween,
When they wonder how to steal our essence and kill our life to sell,
When they see the cloaks of those who sing love songs to God(e)
best believe they'll come.
And when they do,
it will be under the guise of salvation.
The mask of greatness.
The cancer of whiteness on high alert of the fear of no longer
knowing what home looks like
cause they done forgot to praise their ancestors the first time around
so they make sure to kill ours.
They'll come when their frightened.
But they'll come for them first.
They'll come for your brother miles away.
Then they'll come for your school teacher.
Then they'll come for your neighbor.
But by then, after the bodies are thrown in
You know you will be next.
And then you'll wonder how you ever forgot that they'll always come.
It's taken me 27 years to truly understand what envy really means.
But lemme tell you I still haven't gotten to the bottom of it but I know where it starts.
It is a weed.
One that you have to time, after time, after time learn to pull out of your earthen body. Where you, down on your knees, have to pray to God and ask that she forgive you and risk telling the Holy Father all that is wrong within you so that you no longer carry it alone.
Why you can’t love as you thought you should.
Why you aren’t in center of the fold.
Why you aren’t the center of the fold.
Why you aren’t their dying breath.
Why they don’t ache from the lost memories of you.
Is that deep longing
For what you already have, thinking that it looks better in someone else’s house.
Envy is the fog that keeps you from seeing the beauty in the chaos, the swirls of God mixing her spoon in she pot. Letting it simmer.
And you instead grew hungry from the gnawing sensation that you just gotta have it.
Envy is the rushing of what looks like gold
but turned out to really be dust.
A film over the dreams you tossed to snatch someone else’s.
Envy takes a long time to clean out of your house,
but is so easy to let it settle in.