Muslim Angel: A Poem

       

        So, today is May 5th. When I woke up this morning I had nothing more than thoughts of foolish acts and enough liqour to make me forget about what I did.  But as my luck would have it…. it didnt turn out that way.

        I was minding my own business on the Washington, D.C. subway/metro system when something outrageous occurred. I witness Americans discriminating against a Muslim woman who was merely seeking help to get to another metro station.  She was no taller than about 5’5, 5’6 at the most, and between the ages of 48 to 54. She posted no threats whatsoever. When I tell you that I was soooo disgusted that I had to step in and do my part….. you cant even imagine what was going on in my soul.  As a black woman it clicked, as an American I was ashamed, and as a human I felt compelled to do whatever I could. All of this just 2 days after the news broke that Osama bin Laden was killed.

        I went to twitter and I posted the following status: “Dear Muslim woman dressed in full attire, I saw the looks we got on the metro as I helped you find Van Doren. I now understand.” Immediately upon writing that I wrote, “Pardon me….. I am inspired to write a poem.” And I did.

        Work was not a concern of me at the moment. I took to my computer and wrote the following poem:

Muslim Angel

By: 2Deep the Poetess (www.2deepuncensored.wordpress.com)

May 5, 2011

 

Rush Hour

Dim light

The sound of the hustle and bustle of destined feet rush by

Head bobbing to the rhythm of modern complacency

Conformed to public transportation etiquette

Confined

Blending

Silenced

Until

Muslim angel,

Because such a thing exists,

Dressed in full, all white garb

Hijab edges outlined in sea-foam blue,

Magnifying her faith 10 times over,

Wonders towards me in a 5^th attempt to gain assistance

Previous attempts brushed off by head turns

Flaps of Express newspapers in response to her

Popping like bullets of insults

As headlines of Osama’s demise dangle in her face

As if to say, “Look at what we can do to your kind, here inAmerica”

I saw this

In that moment, I was not proud to be an American

If this was, in fact, the way an American should act

I knew it was not her Farsi trained tongue exercising broken English

That made them ignore her requests

I understood her just fine

“Help me”, sprang from her lips

And translated to comprehension via my eyes

Before I even removed my headphones

I asked if she could repeat herself

“Good Morning”, she said

“Help me, please.

Van Doren.”

Without second thought I took the metro map out of her hand

Took her hand in my other and said, “Follow me.

I will take you.”

A gasp schoolyard bullied its way out of the throat of the Caucasian woman standing next to me

Eavesdropping getting the best of her

My original mission of getting to work on time escaping me

This was bigger than me

Something greater inside of me whispered

“Do not let go of her hand.”

And I obeyed

Seemingly safe within the metal cage

Transporting civilians into the breast of the Confederacy

Older Black woman sang disgust

Like a house nigger gawking

As if I was a field nigger threatening to bring mud into the big house

Exercising her Jim Crow

Removing herself from the front of the car, next to us, to sit elsewhere

Muslim Angel and I stuck out like sore thumbs

Comparison to Freedom Bus rides

We sat front seat at society’s counter

Demanding we be served respect

Express newspaper under my thigh

Feeling guilty for seeking out current events

For today I now knew

I was not proud to be an American

She was I and I was she

And here we sat

Traveling to a place where only one of us knew how to get to

Me to Van Doren

She to a place where she could brave the prejudice and still keep her chin high while seeking help

She needing to know what I knew and vice versa

Yet we sat in silence

Communicating through squeezed palms

Praying to one another for remaining true to who they were

And though she spoke Farsi and I English

We both managed, somehow, to speak human

And we continued to hold on to one another

“Next stop Van Doren”, rang over the intercom

Promised land for her and I

As I walked her out to the platform of her destination

Allah shook God’s hand

Hugged

And said many thanks

All the while I noticed we never said bye

Never shared names

Yet knowing we were sisters just the same

Understanding our coexistence in the midst of those who merely exist

I hope that you enjoyed the poem. I want to hear your thoughts on it. Your thoughts on the situation and anything else that you have to say. I pray that there are other people out there who think like I do and would have done the same thing.

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*~

The Braxtons~Burmuda or Bust Tamar in the Face

Now you know…… I HAD to write about this show….

Toni– the star, the one we all know and love. Is it me or does Toni’s cheeks look chubby as shit in this episode? And I love her sons, they both are soooo handsome. She makes cute kids. Diezel’s hair… I LOVE IT!!!!

Traci– Funny how they call her the Wannabe!!! hahahahahaah And she lives here in Maryland?

Towanda– The responsible one, and she is Toni’s Assistant. I LOVE HER!!! hahahahahaha

Trina– The party Girl and a back-up singer for Toni.

Tamar– The Diva, who sings back-up, the baby of the family and her husband is the manager for Toni. Wow…. I have sooo much to say.  Hold up, did Tamar just take over the rehearsal?  And she told CiCi, the choreographer, that she thinks that they should do something better. Now, Tamar, honey….when you fix that weave then you can be a star. And quit it already with the pouty lip…its not sexy you look like you at a Sour Patch Kid.

Now, I think that it is sooooo interesting how they all have this raspy voice. I love it.  Hold up… did Tamar just say that she doesn’t want CiCi to teach her any more. LAWD!!! I just want to bust her in the face!!! Hell, if you missed your sisters being there with you, Toni…. just have them meet you at a stop. I don’t even understand how Vincent puts up with Tamar.

Mother Evelyn looks BEAUTIFUL!!!! She doesn’t look like her age, whatever it is, at all! That’s all that I have to say about that.

And it is funny as hell watching Toni be so forgetful..lol. Now I see why Towanda is the responsible. All I have to say is…when I become wealthy and I take my two current personal assistants with me… I hope that I NEVER become that dependent upon them. I want to pay them to get tasks done and not to cater to me. That is the fastest way to piss me off is to do stuff for me, well stuff that I could do for myself. I guess that level of assistance I have yet to attain or understand. It just looks silly from where I sit. But…. if you like it, I love it.

Annnnnnd. I think that Toni would be the first to say that she would prefer a commercial plane and not a jet. Now THAT I have to disagree with….private jets rock. I love it when I have the moments of being on them.

LMAO!!! Trina did not say that whenever Tamar talks it is like going to the city dump. Tamar said she wants to raise and Asian baby girl as a black child and name her Disney. lmao!!!

Wow… Towanda and her husband are roommates? WOWZERS!!! Wait…. I want to bust Tamar in the face for how she discusses her life. It is ungrateful wenches like that which make me wonder if I will EVER get married b/c someone thought that she was worth marrying in her current state and she didn’t have to chain. But they need to talk about how Tamar needs a touch up on those edges…….TCB on aisle Tamar!

LMAO!!! Did Traci turn into a slave from the Underground Railroad when Tamar asked if she would hold her purse…lmao!  But in all seriousness… I want to give Traci a hug. I really understand what she is saying. Because they all put up with Tamar but no one is begging Traci to be apart of the group. And Tamar should be busted in the clavicle the moment that she told Traci she is not Human Resources for Background Singers of America. Really? All I have heard Tamar say Me, My, I so many damn times that Pronoun will not use any of those word for the remainder of this blog.

And it is comical to watch the grandmother Evelyn try to take care of all of all of the children. LMAO!!! Hilarious! But at least she tried.

And…..I got on the phone and forgot I was watching this. But the jist is that Tamar and her husband Vincent are not really speaking and they kept coming back to Toni to talk about it. But wow….they should keep their marriage in their marriage and not include Toni.

Sincerely,

~*My Mother’s Daughter*~