Men in Islam

From when cold air bites on simmered Somali skin from Yemen, who am I  but one of my fathers daughters forever drenched in Manchester rain tongue forged on terraced streengts ,

The men in Islam have been labelled to hilt, tarred and feathers, slandered with slogans that they are abusers, but I don’t know that man, memory recollects oiled beards, the smell of the mosque , kind gentle hands, memory recollects foul actions too but they are not kept just for one people no matter who you are or what you claim to follow ….we breath

My memories of the men that raised me and I was raised with would take a heavy bag to ease the burden on slender shoulders and bites from plastic handles in the creases of hands, Northern grit makes us Manchester girls slightly stubborn and say we can carry are own bags thank you very much ,but thank  for the kind thought, thank you for the kind thought ….because we knew then, we were cared for,

You hold a responsibility,

The men in Islam have been labelled to the hilt, tarred and feathered, slandered with slogans  that they are abusers but I do not know that man….

But men are men dispite who they are, on this journey a Muslim never stands apart from humanity but they hold hands up in prayer

I am flawed and stand here so, but through men and women that have callosed dark spots on forheads from laying in postration, I’m aware my truth can’t be found in man but only through Him

There are Obsessions….There’s an obsession  over men controlling us women, obsession with the number of wive’s, an obsession with honour killings, obsession of flesh…as if the bottom the of the shoe is the focus of an image,

I’d rather look straight into the eyes, coz they are jewels in  men,  jewels in women,

I can’t crawl under boulders from misconceptions but I can stand and remember the jewel of a spirit in submission,

The man I know allowed me as my mother did to stand on her shoulders to see horizon over horizon to glimpse and imagine the taste of seventh heaven,

We worked with love he knew 7 languges but only instilled in me one,The man I know opened up his periphery in hope that mine would one day be wider,

So please don’t tell me how I’m walking 10 steps behind or how I’m caged, everyone has their own story,

Mine is this one seeing the example of the Prophets in my brothers and son, Yassin Younis Yahya Yousuf and Jeziel, I have to give thanks ameen , so when I see slanted points of view that take faith out of context I have to smile coz these mens actions take small minds to task,

When you talk about the men in Islam they are the fathers, brothers and sons of every nation – so expect their women to correct lopsided boats, and please don’t speak for me orators, I like to thinkG I know my father

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