Resistance was futile, panic assimilated the plane,
Pessimism rose when a blade crossed the throat,
Of the crew, the new pilot lost his staff and coach,
Terrorist and passengers, fear engulfed them both,
Fear thins the air like smoke, watching children choke,
On their own cries, almost blind with the tears in their eyes,
Time slows as if the battery in the clocks dying,
Parents lying to keep their children from crying,
In hope that the silence will help kill the violence,
But the four men, two with a knife the other two with a pen,
Kept telling us to look out the windows again and again,
But no one did, till something shook the plane,
Some in disbelief had to twice look again,
But they couldn’t see the other inbound Brooklyn plane,
Two men disappeared to the cockpit,
One leaving a knife, in the shakes he must have dropped it,
I bent over and grasped the knife,
Only to find a pen being held to my neck,
And thrown orders to raise from the deck,
I was one of their people but out of disrespect,
He took the pen to my back and half slit my neck,
For not perusing my faith and family in this savage act,
For my face love for Allah, but I didn’t have his back,
He took the cloth from his face, wiped the wound,
I don’t know what possessed me, I was consumed,
I took the knife and stabbed him,
Like he stabbed the cabin captain,
I was being strangled by anger,
Not the anger of being in danger from a stranger,
But as if I was stabbed by the child who I once cradled in his manger,
What went wrong with Muslims why we here?,
Why do we think the route to paradise is through western fear,
Why do some interoperate it so so wrong,
Killing for Allah is no less ignorant then those who think we wear sarongs,
But the connection was deeper than to who we give our prayers,
The blood moving down my arm pulling on hairs,
My own blood on my face, but cut nowhere,
He digressed from evil to being o, so scared,
Wondering how the woman who put him there,
Would be the one to leave him with a vacant stare…