All I Am-

They called me black,
When words were
in their possession,
Once spoken,
Was law and order,
They stated-
          I am black.

She’s a woman,
They reassured;
As if the gender,
Possessed lesser power,
They ordered-
         I am just a woman.

She’s Muslim,
And the veil on my head,
Became heavy,
The venom on their face,
Evident.
         Muslim- I was a threat.

So many labels,
One individual,
Am I black,
      A woman,
             Muslim?

The skin they pointed at
Hardened,
Impenetrable to their words,
I grew to accept,
I was all they had labelled.

Now, when I say
I am a black Muslim woman,
They say-
          I am human.
Funny,
How they seemed to forget,
When the words,
Were in their power.

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The successful ones-

Would I- be amongst those,
Whose fingers would speak,
Of the goodness erupting,
From their finger tips;

On the day when the mountains,
All become flattened,
When man stands- sole,
And account for his deed.

Would I- be amongst, the few
Chosen ones, whose faces
Aglow, from the
Worship of their Lord.

At the first string of light,
They defeat the alarm,
And the grounds would bear witness,
They glorified their Lord.

Would I be amongst those,
The shaded ones,
Who bore with fortitude,
The trials of this world.

For indeed, on that day,
They’re the successful ones.
Those who walked the earth as strangers,
Knowing IT, they will become.