You Say I Am Not Welcome...

You say I am not welcome.

You've made that clear.

Brutally, callously, deathly clear.

You say I am not welcome,

but every morning, you delightfully sip coffee

from beans, my people first brewed in Mokha,

yet you manage to find the audacity

to spit out my name

like it is an unwanted pit.

You say I am not welcome,

but you use my numbering system

to carry out the most complex calculations.

You say I am not welcome,

but you mapped stars

with Al-Farghani’s constellations.

You say I am not welcome,

but you built hospitals

on Ibn Sina’s grave.

You say I am not welcome,

but use my ancestors’ accomplishments

to further your understanding of this world.

You stripped our discoveries of their souls

to fuel your war machines.

Yet my tongue is buried

like it is something foreign.

Something unknown.

Something you exiled as a threat.

You say I am not welcome,

but your enlightenment was built

on libraries, we refused to let die

while your dark ages choked you

into a dependent silence.

You say I am not welcome,

but the hands that catch your newborn’s first breath,

treat your sick,

and take care of your elderly

are the same hands you happily tattoo ‘terrorist’ in the blood

of my genocided people.

You say I am not welcome,

but when you count your sins, use our numbers.

When you document your genocides,

add the zeros to my people’s graves.

Yet you fear my prayer mat

more than we fear

the echoes of your bombs.

You say I am not welcome

but celebrate the clockwork

while vilifying the hands that wound it.

You say I am not welcome,

but you dissect light

with Ibn al-Haytham’s eyes

yet glare at me

as though I were a stain on your streets.

And so, your children solve for X,

but instead of finding Al-Jabr,

a word buried with the bones

of Muhammad al-Khwarizmi,

your equations must wear Latin masks.

You say I am not welcome,

but what good my people have contributed

to humanity is claimed as your own,

and your cultural industrial complex churns out lies and propaganda

to erase our contribution.

To erase us.

Why?

To baptise your lies:

Worthless.

Haters of life.

Worshippers of death,

you preach as your drones hum hymns

over our skies.

You say I am not welcome.

Then why do your cities

still wear the robe

of my people’s accomplishments with pride?

You say I am not welcome,

but I am you, and you are me.

Ask your monuments.

They will cough—

and whisper my name.

You say I am not welcome.

Then why does your future

hang onto my ancestors’ fingerprints