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I stand high in the face of the
ignorant
and fall to my knees, humbled at
the
sight of a rose
As a tree who’s roots grow
deep
choosing desire of passion over
desire of loin
I kneel, a footstool of truth
A lover of all it’s forms
the truth that burns and the truth
hat
cleanses the burns of the soul
I walk through the thorny patches of
life
bleeding at the loss of humanity that
lies
in waiting within the corner of my
eye
I tear out the heart of the
oppressor
Here I make my stand, upon the bodies
of
the liars of this world
They have fear for all things these
liars
of mankind
but not love of truth on their
side
I have fear of all things, and with
Allah at my side
I reach out my hand and pull
down
the sky
The mark of man is not his pride
It is not his maleness that makes
a
woman's heart quiver
The mark of a man is burned on his
skin
a branding of flesh
The sign of the footstool
humbled before the truth Sayers
It is the living soul in his
eyes
that he leaves a mark
upon a woman's heart
It is the mark of a man quick to
battle
at the sight of inhumanity
The mark of a man to hold
his tongue as he is ripped to
shreds
by the talons of men
that would have him speak the
lie
he staggers at injustice
falls at the feet of truth
holds his tongue at moments of
futility and crushes the fear of the
woman
that loves him
for this he is branded
he is a man marked
by Basima Farhat
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