Perspective
Walking into the busy corner store, I get my chips, my drink, and get in line. The store, there for years, owned by an American family. The store is crowded, people everywhere. There is a loud Hispanic man at the front, shirt unbuttoned, missing teeth, unshaven. He snarls at the cashier, and loudly yells, “So, what’s it like to be a Muslim in America today?” Everyone freezes, gasps, and is embarrassed for the man,
out of ignorance, -controversy…
The crickets quit chirping for the reply.
“It is wonderful for me, I am an American before I am a Muslim”, he says “and it is much better than being an American in Iraq! I can tell you that!” Everyone laughed and agreed. He concluded, “ It is not America’s fault,...everyone knows that all Muslims are not terrorists,...the problem is that all terrorists are Muslim….I hate terrorists!” he smiles and laughs it off.
I being a white woman dug into my soul. Wanting to relate, to feel him bleed red as I too bleed red, I gained perception. I realized most serial killers are white. I fully understood. Though a bit too big, I stood there in his shoes and thought, “I hate serial killers.” What I learned from it all?
That he was Muslim.
I had always seen a kind man, without label.
That evening, needing milk, I walked to the corner store…..
Copyright © Jacquline Musgrave | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment