I stand high in the face of the ignorant
and fall to my knees, humbled at the
sight of a rose
As a tree who’s roots grow deep
choosing desire of passion over
desire of loin
I kneel, a footstool of truth
A lover of all it’s forms
the truth that burns and the truth hat
cleanses the burns of the soul
I walk through the thorny patches of life
bleeding at the loss of humanity that lies
in waiting within the corner of my eye
I tear out the heart of the oppressor
Here I make my stand, upon the bodies of
the liars of this world
They have fear for all things these liars
of mankind
but not love of truth on their side
I have fear of all things, and with Allah at my side
I reach out my hand and pull down
the sky
The mark of man is not his pride
It is not his maleness that makes a
woman’s heart quiver
The mark of a man is burned on his skin
a branding of flesh
The sign of the footstool
humbled before the truth Sayers
It is the living soul in his eyes
that he leaves a mark
upon a woman’s heart
It is the mark of a man quick to battle
at the sight of inhumanity
The mark of a man to hold
his tongue as he is ripped to shreds
by the talons of men
that would have him speak the lie
he staggers at injustice
falls at the feet of truth
holds his tongue at moments of
futility and crushes the fear of the woman
that loves him
for this he is branded
he is a man marked