I am not who you call a Muslim Whom you see down the street and whisper furtively among yourselves, “Terrorist” Murderous, impulsive Blinded by hate and a fierce devotion to merciless religious rituals, crying, “Purge this land of unbelievers”
I am not what you call a Hindu Worshipper of idols, self-appointed overseers of birth and caste, In an effort to placate pagan gods; Or diligently watch the stars and moon; Content to leave my life to the mercy Of unknown elements.
But neither am I what you call a Christian Exclusive, selfish but condescending, All for show Barring our doors to those that need us the most; “For the good of us all” you say. Then pass by with a pitiful glance at The single mother and immigrant neighbor with their rent three months overdue; Our faith like a drawn sword meant to tear down Those who dare question us.
Nor am I what you call a Buddhist or a Jew Promised to one or to none; Either peaceful or...the other extreme “Tread lightly among them all” you say; You never know when they'll turn around All guns and words and say, “You too."
Neither am I who you call “atheist,” Living non-conformist lives in an independent madness, Denying God, temple and ordained religion; Their sin will catch up with them; Just wait and see.
Then you turn around to face me and speak “Choose” “It is time to pick a side” "Which one of them are you?” But I reply “None of these” And that you just couldn't take.
Rtr. Acsah Kulasingham
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