I am tired of those who use my niqab to dry their guilty tears They tear open my chest and build a church from my bones They build a confessional out of my flesh Pulling on my skirt and begging for forgiveness Hoping my blood will baptize them of their bias, of their racism That my flesh will exorcise them of their bigotry Wanting to hang my skin on their wall as a trophy to their tolerance To parade around my tongue as proof that they are a good person They refuse to turn the mirror on themselves They can find no glory in putting in the work They see no reward in quietly unlearning the hatred they were taught So they vivisect me in hopes of finding absolution there
– Confession/Vivisection, Salamatullah Eldritch















