My Eman

by Gillette aka Hassan[uddin] Khaja

i miss my eman
whenever i kill my heart, she beats me back to life with the qur'an
and drags me to the masjid, 'cause no one else wanted to call the adhaan
i always tell her that i miss her
but she complains that i only express my love with superficial "proud to be muslim" bumper stickers
i complain that i can't constantly feed her with dhikr
i say that blood is thick, but my love for her is even thicker
but she asks why i run away from her quicker
than people who try to trick her creator
i insist that i don't hate her
but when i see the waiter come by,
"i gotta eat, i'll make up salah later"
she complains that i only see her five times a day during prayer
but i insist that i never disobey her
she asks who i want to be with, i say her
but if i see some women, i tell her, "maybe we need some time apart."
that's when it starts
i hate the part when i blacken my heart
and she says "my lord's gonna be [angry].
soon, he's gonna send an angel to take away all of this.
death and destruction are the only women you'll ever kiss.
i'm a custom-made import sent by al-azeez to protect what's between your jaws and knees.
you'll need me if it's him you want to please.
so, you don't want me? fine! i'm gonna leave!"
she flew through the door, and i went after her, screaming "give me back my car keys!"
i saw her speed out of the driveway
i said to myself "who cares? i don't need her, i'll do things my way."
i took a look at my stuff and said, "we're fine how we are."
later, i wanted to go to the masjid, but i had no car.
"i'll just walk, it isn't far."
i needed to hurry as the sky was starting to darken
i left my house, and i saw my car, with a few minor markings
"she brought it back," i thought, "but she's terrible with parking."
so i walked into the musalla, and in the first row, who was right behind the imam,
saving a spot for me? my eman