September 12

only the debris has settled.
vapors that were once flesh and metal
steal through the city like shadows
hovering, waiting
on the fire escape
by a window.
the jihad pauses
while the puritans weep
assessing the losses
and damage done to the triumvirate–
sheep, shepherds, market.
the sheep demand blood
branding their bearded cousins goats
they call upon the shepherds to slit open their throats
the witch-hunt begins.

don’t speak you mother tongue
don’t wear a turban
even though there is no racism in the world
according to the men from Durban
who only weeks ago debated grammatical rules
while in Sudan, Tehran, Kabul
other men brooded over the futility of semantics
the impotence of words
like many before them–
Palestinians, Tutsis, Kurds.
from Tunisia to Indo-nesia
guilty till proven otherwise
the sheep grow fat on a diet of lies.
I look down when I walk
whisper when I talk
I wake in the night to check if my door is locked
the witch-hunt is on.

back in the old world
the jehadis call me infidel
because of the place I happen to dwell.
like Rushdie, I keep my profile low, hopes high
that in Allah’s name no more flames will rain from the sky.
old Hindus say, “we told you about these Mohammedians–
they are crayzeee like those Branch Davidians!”
so we tear down a mosque in Ayodhya .
retaliation:
decapitation of Afghani buddhas
and bombs rip through Mumbai
destroying the streets where my cousins play
the jihad is on.

witch hunters
jehadis
crusaders all,
with your one truth
untruth
one god
one prophet
one blind eye
operation infinite justice
infinite lies.
the jihad begat the witch hunt!
or did the witch-hunt beget the jihad?!
Jerusalem or Mecca, Washington or Baghdad?

America, treat me like an AY-RAB
and I might play the part.
call me a terrorist one more time
then watch your back as me and mine
turn into “traitors,”
manifesting the destiny your apocalyptic fantasies made for us.
see here in America we Asians Arabs Afghanis Africans all relate
because we share the same fate
face the same hate
and eat with our hands off the same metal plates.

you toss my brothers in the water–
sink or float?
now tell me–
what separates the sheep from the goats?