We square up to each other
Over baklava and orange juice
Our words testing the water
For the first mention of
Muhammad or Messiah
And what we think of them.
The debate itself takes place between two sets of
Firm but sunny smiles
Eyes wary, brows furrowed in frustration at the others’
Refusal to concede, or confusion over a particular argument.
There is no force, only words
– but the words themselves
Tussle between us, back and forth
Like two bull-ants wrestling on the table.
This, then, is what the debate would live and die as,
If I forget to bring love, to the table.
Because logic is vital
Understanding is important
But I can never
Talk you into belief.
I am still learning how to respect your mind and
Match your fight, while
His love and light…
The topic changes abruptly over a phone interruption
Neither of us attempts to move it back…
We’d like to be friends, I think.
So, tell me, friend:
Can what we share
Guide our wandering
Through our differences?
By Miriam Dale
from the book ‘The Weight of Hope’
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