Letter to my Kin

So I’m watching TV right, and I’m flipping through the channels when I come across family guy

So it’s an episode where there’s this “Muslim alarm clock” that they illustrate

And suddenly I hear the takbeer, shortly after which the alarm clock detonates

Now I’m laughing incessantly to the point that I smear my tears, and for some weird reason, in my head the word “terrorist” resonates

And then suddenly impulsively my limbs reach for a paper and pen, these feelings of deep horror and sorrow traveling through my skin, my mind picturing a devilish grin hiding years of oppression and sin, as my hand begins….”Dear my kin”

Yet as the words I think are made permanent through the drying ink, it isn’t merely my mother father and sister that I have in mind

Rather it is the family I belong to called mankind….primarily my brothers in faith

And I continue, “Dear my kin, I have failed you” rather “I have betrayed you”

I have been a fervent proponent of those who enslave you,

Those who subject you to, cheap sweatshops, fast food restaurants, leave you bed-ridden, poverty-stricken and then disdain you

I am writing this letter, to try and explain to you my detrimental love affair, with America

And this simple TV show epitomizes how they desensitized us to our own sorry condition

Took the “s” out of slaughter and now it’s all funny business

Children begging for water, and we won’t’ even listen

Dying sons and daughters but as long as it isn’t out children, it doesn’t worry our soul

But last I checked the ummah was supposed to be whole

Your pain was mine, my heart beat with yours

And now it’s your situation, is well, your situation

And we started changing the station on the Muslim nation, neglecting our ansar roots

Why is it that our youth feature the most diverse ethnic groups yet all the girls want the latest ugg boots and all the guys the famous thug roots?

The object of your loyalty, is the source from which you derive your pride, and the source of your pride describes how much you’re worth

And I have come to realize that we are worth more, than short skirts and pre-marital births

More than Armani shirts and the devil’s curse, I refuse to continue to contribute to this dearth of worth; I’d rather live on the periphery of simplicity with a deep antipathy of all the illusions on this earth

You see I just recently realized that the home of the brave, was in fact the home of the slaves

Because I’ve still yet to see, the land of the free

And don’t get me wrong I support this star spangled banner as best I can, but rather than supporting it unconditionally, I realize now that I must support which ever part of it fits within the banner of Islam

Much rather than conforming to a man-made foundation, I’d rather live by a foundation established by God for man

Much rather than ingesting the “Uncle Sam,” “yes we can” placebos, I’d rather whole-heartedly take in the pure unadulterated cure of Islam

Because as much as I love you America, I cannot support half the principles on which you stand

And consequently, the consequent consequences constantly became numb in my veins

And subsequently, the subsequent sublime message substituted for pain

As the subliminal tide subsides I reside in my misplaced sense of pride in which I so deeply confide when in reality I can’t stand what’s inside; shame

The shame of my heart and mind as a result of their enslavement, to my soul and her greed

This need for conformity, is their modernized slavery

And in the process we’ve lost all sense of loyalty, to everything save our souls, and God knows we are in need of some serious soul saving

So I refuse to betray you my kin anymore

Re-tame my soul, regain control, and retain my true pride, keep my head held high

And I’m not talking about my nose in the sky because of why I advertise on my shirt, I’m talking about the minimum 5 times a day that I put my face in the dirt

This, is a letter to the unborn, and I’m not talking about abortion I’m talking about extortion

For every person paying their hard earned money to stimulate someone else’s fortune, and getting left with a less than second best portion

This, is for the mother’s working three jobs to keep the lights on

This, is for my brothers subject to American fight songs

This, is for the warrior who knows he’s meeting his doom but still fights on

It is you that stays true to what you believe in, not us who stay true to every lyric, to every song of the heathens

Confusing profound, with profane, doing whatever it takes to be considered mundane

While you worry about bullets and bombs dropping from the sky, but don’t you cry, I am by your side

And these kings trying to suppress the shari’ah is no new concept

The shari’ah my friend, is what obligates me to greet Muslims and non-Muslims alike with this cheese

So by all means, Peter kings of queens, ban as you please

I however, will continue to please the owner of all pleasure and all He decrees, and as the degrees of hardship increase, I know two fold that so does the ease

So please forgive me my kin, I am weak my heart changes with the seasons

One day it’s hot, and the next day it’s freezing, one day I’ve got it all figure out and the next I’ve lost my direction and reason

So I’m pleading, with you my kin, I repent to Allah to forgive me my sins and I beg you please, forgive me my treason

I am willing to extend you my arms till the souls of my palms start bleeding

Because this life it fleeting, and it is you that I cherish

I would rather die before I see my brothers perish

But alas, then came the end of the commercial break, and just as I was about to continue throwing my life away, I was shown a sign

This letter had a pulse, and it, was beating with mine…