I used to feel less muslim than my counterparts
In my head, a twisted ideal had been erected
A narrative grand as the pyramids
"proper muslim"
I deferred to it
In New York, the proud towers were reduced to bloody rubble
my complex was reinforced
the bar of faith raised higher
on the underdog's day.
My measly faith could not compare with men prepared
to die.
They had force fed the west
a rancid taste of its own medicine,
'Martyrs', they said
not a crack in their conviction
audacious
forthright
they gave the ultimate sacrifice
Bullshit.
My other hand gripped shame.
These were murderers and their mockery of virtue.
I wore two faces:
appalled around most,
but among those of same twisted disposition,
nods of approval.
Religions are ideologies
pick and mix affairs.
You may outgrow and shed the ugly parts,
deference to disdain,
the palatable remains I can fit in one hand.
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