Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Being Muslim by Hayan Charara


Being Muslim

O father bringing home crates
of apples, bushels of corn,
and skinned rabbits on ice.

O mother boiling lentils in a pot
while he watched fight after fight,
boxers pinned on the ropes

pummeling each other mercilessly.
And hung on the wall where we
ate breakfast an autographed photo

of Muhammad Ali. O father
who worshipped him and with
a clenched fist pretended to be:

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
O you loved being Muslim then.
Even when you drank whiskey.

Even when you knocked down
my mother again and again.
O prayer. O god of sun.

God of moon. Of cows
and of thunder. Of women.
Of bees. Of ants and spiders,

poets and calamity.
God of the pen, of the fig,
of the elephant.

Ta’ Ha’, Ya Sin, Sad, Qaf. 
God of my father, listen:
He prayed, he prayed, five times a day,

and he was mean.

 

2 comments:

  1. This is not 'being a Muslim.' This is male patriarchy cultural wife beating . True Islam is tolerant and gentle and kindness to women is paramount . So sorry you suffered but to blame Islam for wife beating is analogous to claiming that a Catholic choir boy subject to abuse from a priest is the fault of Catholicism . I leave you with the words of Muslim poet and grandee of humanity :'Listen with ears of tolerance! See through the eyes of compassion! Speak with the language of love'

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