My Angels, Jinn & I: A Poem by Eman Tai (United Against Hate)
Channel: Muslim Community Center - MCC East Bay
Date: 2021-09-18

For United Against Hate Week '21, MCC congregant Eman Tai Ahmad reads a poem she wrote "my angels, jinn and i."

United Against Hate Week (November 14-20, 2021) is a call for seven days of local civic action by people in every Bay Area community to stop the hate and implicit biases that are a dangerous threat to the safety and civility of our neighborhoods, towns and cities. 

- More Sr. Eman: http://mcceastbay.org/eman

Sr. Eman recites for UAH week on behalf of MCC East Bay  and Muslim Public Affairs Council (MPAC). She also formerly with the San Francisco Bay Area chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR).

This poem recitation was delivered at the Muslim Community Center - East Bay (MCC East Bay) in Pleasanton, California on September 18, 2021.

At a time when hate is rising as a toxic poison in our country, Bay Area Stands United Against Hate Week is an initiative focused on eradicating hate and bullying, eliminating implicit bias and driving civil discourse as the norm in our communities. Started in 2018, 20 cities, towns and counties, and over 35 school districts, colleges and community organizations participated in an inaugural week of events. Not In Our Town was proud to be a cosponsor of the week and many events. learn more at http://unitedagainsthateweek.org and at https://www.youtube.com/user/TheWorkingGroup

Poem text: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1o2_NUgq-jzzjyYjp5oHIuFzoLsOIwMum/view?usp=sharing

my angels jinn and i
Eman Tai Ahmad

when I wake up in the morning and raise my hands up to the sky
I hear not one or two but three in unison we cry
calling for deliverance on this road less traveled by
as we walk this elusive land my angels jinn and I

Born with four angels and a jinn here by my side 
I hear them in caverns of my thoughts as we decide                          
how to tell the lecherous from the generous and kind
and which of these desire we should ride into the night

you see
I’ve never really had what they’d call peace of mind
the angels had opinions and my jinn was always right
she would see illusions in every aspiration
and she was in collusion with every temptation 
and when of daily frustrations with the angels I spoke
she’d laugh so hard her fire turned from flame to smoke

you see 
she’d meet some handsome devil who’d simply caught her eye
then turn to me in impishness daring me to try
while all the angels’d see were
demons in tuxedos on red carpets full of lies
for whom the worlds one big casino where the chips just fall in line
and so the debate would rage continue deep inside 
needling my thoughts while the imp in me and jinn 
would take a soaring leap and fly
on our latest turbulent impulse up into the sky
of this elusive land my angels jinn and I

till one day...
when I met a martyr on the corner of Telegraph and Haste 
the angels led me to him by Divine decree and grace
in the primordial mist I know I’d met his soul before
it felt so familiar the essence of this Moor
his skin was dark as ebony and shown like Galahad
as he went on Arthur’s quest 
searching for the grail to save all they had 

now my jinn look stunned and silent while the angels serenely preened
she looked distinctly sullen and slightly ill at ease
yet to me…he felt like stillness in a sea of restless aches
drawn like nahl to honey with flowers in their wake
I stepped closer to listen to his whispers on the breeze
time my pulse to their rhythm and hear their eerie beats

he spoke of lives before that vibrate in his veins
he spoke of memories only that the conscious can regain
and as he spoke I trembled cause his words had been ingrained
so profoundly in my spirit that they made me feel insane 

Beginning with Odysseus coming home to save his land
then going back to Gilgamesh who held it in his hand
as he searched for immortality 
learning from above 
the struggle for humanity is 
to give it up
like Rabia with her torch and pail and Habiba in the night 
standing on her roof top amongst the northern lights
and Maria in her cell on the northern block
praying for protection from the racket on the rock
the tales of their lives gurgled deep inside my bones
their struggles to survive seemed so much like my own

Then as the Martyr turned and spoke directly to my ashen face
he said in your soul I see it! the latent hidden trace
of warriors like Assata and who lived amongst the race
of humankind and struggled to find their fateful place
unlike Huey and Stokely whose lives burned quick and true
yours will be the struggle to live and carry through
no rapid success or valiant gains
your will be evolution of revolutionary pains

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