“Go stand behind the guy with the grey hair.” “That’s gross. Did she actually say that?” Set my buzzer on the chair right next to me Among the crumbs where a crumbled someone sat I meander out of the loyal meter Of the country-western number playing back. Egg and cheese on an Asiago bagel Verse contrived like my Sunday morning snack. And this light roast blend Is sure to send My senses into spiral With no sobering end. Fake smiles Keep them together Moods change Like the Chicago weather. Got to go.
I wrote this in honor of a friend of a friend who has entered the last stages of a 10-year long battle with Benson’s syndrome, a visual variant of Alzheimer’s Disease. This is dedicated to all those enduring the many forms of dementia out there. Peace and love. It doesn’t matter what it is It doesn’t matter why it’s there What it’s for or where it goes Or how it got upon that chair All that matters is your heart Playing softly in your chest Celebrating all you’ve got You’re so different from the rest Sweet and sinless is your breath Drawing circles in my hands Home is past the stream of death Where the sun is in the sands Let the moments come and go Each a lifetime on it’s own They don’t matter now, you know All that matters has been known Smell the flowers, grab the sky Hear the laughter, even cry God is greater than it all You will get to ask Him why As will I
It’s hard to be a Muslim in these times When random border checks have gotten cold With camps and waterboarding on our minds And neo-nazi haters walking bold Like foreigners in lands we hold our own We’re dust on maps dividing us apart Unfounded fears turning hearts to stone Impelling policy bereft of heart We hear the names of prophets tossed in vain By voices on the left and on the right But can’t submit our intellect to gain Admission to a Garden wrought from Light It’s hard to be a Muslim till we see That Muslim is just all we need to be