Don’t Ban my Sanctuary


There is a lot of talk about banning mosques and surveying Muslims in North America. Please, Don’t ban my sanctuary.


Do you know what a sanctuary is?

It’s a door that squeaks

And stairs that creak

Under the weight of your feet



Bare walls

A curtain torn

Mismatched carpets

Threadbare and worn



An open window

That lets in the breeze

And bird song

But keeps out the world’s cruelty

A mattress in the corner

And running water



A place named after a woman

Aisha..meaning: a woman alive

A place for women only

To shed their layers

…and their tears



This is my mosque

Where I wandered one day

Because I needed walls to cover my  raw open wounds

Where I doubled over on the ground;

The mattress was too high

Wondering if I’d ever breathe normally again

Where I fell asleep

Something I had not done in days

And woke up to the sound of my own laughter

And the fading image of a silly face in my dreams

(I have a weakness for silly faces 😝)



This is my sanctuary

And heartbreakingly,

It was labeled on google maps

As a terrorist center


I guess that makes me a terrorist


When my world tipped over its axis

This “center”

“centered” me


Image retrieved from: my sanctuary



4 thoughts on “Don’t Ban my Sanctuary

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