Who am I? you ask

Who am I?

(Wouldn’t you like to know!)

You ask, and yet you hear no answer I give.

You are Christian? you ask

No, I tell you, I’m not.

Ah, then you are Muslim?

No, I tell you, I’m not.

Confusion in your eyes

I peer into them

Searching for a clue

A hint

Anything that I could say

So you would understand

Anything about me

Anything at all

Even if it is small

Even if it is only my smile.

 

Who am I?

(Wouldn’t you like to know!)

You ask, and yet you hear no answer I give.

What about God? you ask

What about God? I say.

I love God, I say

I love God and all God’s creations

There is no other label on my soul.

That is good, you say, relieved.

I am also relieved.

But you are not satisfied

This means then that you are Christian, you say

No, I repeat, I am not.

When a pebble falls on a calm pond, ripples

So were the wrinkles on your forehead.

 

Who am I?

(Wouldn’t you like to know!)

You ask, and yet you hear no answer I give.

So you have no religion then?

Sahh, I reply, only faith.

Your voice is dry like the desert sand that blows in through open windows.

This means then you are atheist, prostitute?

My eyes now are wet

An oasis

To go with your dusty voice.

I can feel the rain, soon it will come

But there is no rain in the desert

So I choke instead on the grains of my faith

My faith is real, just like yours

My God is not my own but ours

There is no god but God.

Why can’t we all share?

Have you been to Paradise?

Have you seen God’s face?

What makes you think you can save me then with a veil or a cross?

If I need salvation in this world

It is from the religious men

Whose religion doesn’t stop their rude eyes, tongues or hands.