Chapel Hill Shooting

Listening to Suzanne Barakat yesterday at the CAIR banquet unleashed this poem that had been in my head for a while. Dedicated to Deah, Yusor and Razan, who taught me it is possible to love and grieve for people you have never met in your life

Red

was the color of apples
that went into apple pie
and I was as American
as my favorite dessert

Red was the color of my first car
that dad gifted me when I turned 16
and I rode it with a smile to school
just your average American teenager

Red was the color of my flag
That I handed out as I campaigned for Obama
How proud I was to be American on that day
as I was on most every day

Red was the color of joy
That I brought to everyone’s life I touched
My family and friends were diverse
Just a typical American family

Red was the color of my bridal bouquet
that I carried as I walked up
to meet the love of my life
And I thought I was living the American dream

Being Muslim never seemed to me
to go against being American
Why was it so hard for him then?
Why is it so hard for all you bigots?

He saw me that day
Wearing my white scarf
Just a cloth that I loved to wear over my head
A cloth that said "Not American, Not human, Not worth living” to him

So he shot me
Red was the color of my hijab
dyed with my blood
As he shot me dead