And Still...
By the blessed dark wombs that bore us through the passage of primordial purity... By the echoing du'a in the depths of seas sanctified by tears and blood and prayers
And still in your hearts,
And through your smile you say...
We will tell you when to be offended by our disregard,
We will let you know when you are allowed to feel pain or give it voice,
We will decide how much hatred your souls can bear,
We will tell when you are allowed to stop dying,
How much blood you are allowed to shed, how many tears may fall from your unworthy eyes upon the graves of your apostate ancestors,
How many years you must endure the delight of our disdain,
our discontent with your black insistence on innocence,
your refusal to accept our generous offer to relieve you of the burden of your struggle to attain humanity.
We will placate the enemies of your souls with offerings of our complacent capitulation and console the minds of those who murder you with reassurances of your contentment with the daily deaths they faithfully deliver.
Your prayers for deliverance irritate our sacred sensibilities, so we will purify them of your anger, your restlessness, and your incessant pleas for mercy so that the throne of Mercy isn't contaminated by your arrogant insistence on justice.
The solace you seek lies in your submission to our sanctity, the sweet surrender of all your strivings for peace and the beautiful silence, and the sublime stillness of the deaths your dark disobedience deserves.
But rest assured that as we rise upon the altar of your bodies and ascend to aspirational heights, we will pay homage to your heroic sacrifices, honor your destitute dreams, and bury your legacy far from the motherland you were never worthy to claim.