JONATHAN

TERRORIST VS ORPHAN BOY

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I was eight when Allah called out to me .
No booming voice ,
no miraculous sights to see ,
just an armed man at our front door ,
Abba lying bleeding on the floor
and no signs of life on my Ammi .
I was eight when Allah called out to me .
Im eighteen now .
I've lived oh so long .
A dark decade has passed
only Allah knows how .
The world now calls me
a fanatic
a terrorist
I get to call myself Allah's
jihadi

AMMI: muslim equivalent to the word mom
ABBA : muslim equivalent to the word dad
JIHADI :warrior fighting a holy Islamic war .

JolieH

Jonathan,
This poem tells a sad story. The images are heartbreaking. It brings to mind pictures in magazines and stories I've heard of middle East families. It's sad how a young man can live with such horrible memories, and what will he be when he's grown. It seems he would be a humanitarian and hate these guys. I don't know a lot about these kinds of lives and religious followings - just what I see on TV and read in "Time" magazine. I know I can appreciate the protected life I have as a US citizen.

Terence

I hear you Jonathan. And when/how does the senseless circle of violence end. Whose parents, which eight-year-old is next. Sorry but it's hard to comment on this as a poem, just the message remains.

Terence