oh, but this suffering is a sacrament!
lying backwards off of the bed,
arms outstretched in a parody of piety,
in paroxysms of guilt!
oh, but the absurd mirrors the sublime!
this scene is ridiculous as it is
the buzzing of fluorescent lights
in my blood, in the skin of my teeth—
the only scourge upon my cheek
and not pock or plague.
and yet, a holy hush descends,
as if I am hallowed!
as if I am blessed!
Jesus of Nazareth had skin like mine—
Muhammad spoke the language from which
I draw my name—
my bones are the bones into which
Al-Quddus blew life!
oh, but I am a portent of the Divine!!!