Muslim Mother

In the middle of America Muhammad sits and cries
Exiled from the land he loves; his legacy defiled
Muslim killing Muslim, their rage pokes out their eyes
And mothers cannot bury all their children who have died.

I cry with you, Sweet Mother; your grief can know no bounds
Grasping at each shred of hope before another burns it down
Children with their books in hand, they could find the gold
But hatred just won’t let them; See! Her hope is growing old.

Howl O Muslim Mother! Lay your body down and roar
The feminine beneath their boot will rise from bloodied floors
With Muhammad’s blessing, she has reached a boiling point
Every daughter will hear her cry and will themselves anoint.

While Jacob, Esau wrestle, Eve will put that apple back
This time she’ll crush that serpent’s head before his next attack
Jam the barrels of every gun, walk through the bombing rain
Shame those who say peace cannot be – See! God will come again.

Muslim Mother, stand your ground, make them hear your song
Not one more death will stain your breast; hatred’s ruled too long
Your stolen daughters lie in wait – O! let them see you rise
Through you God will heal all wounds; through you put back their eyes!

American Pharisee 2016

Throw him in the big boy pond
Watch him thraw about
Pretend he knows just how to swim
Ignore that ling’ring doubt.

Conscience screaming otherwise
O ignore that spirit’s song
Take off your vest and dive right in
Insist others come along.

Wear his death whene’er it comes
I will call you to account
Why when he looked right at you
You pointed no weakness out.

Bravado, pride, such arrogance
Thin armor in any war
Your human shield as battles rage
No clue which way the shore.

Console yourself – for he’s a man
Forceful, bold, and sure
But you’ve been given eyes that see
On you this guilt secured.