"Detainee! Detainee! This is your final warning.
If you do not comply with my command, the I.R.F. team is dawning.
The I.R.F team is on the block
And if you do not come out, your ass will they drop".

I looked at the block sergeant, and I looked all around.
I looked at him, at the sky, at the birds, and then there was but one sound:
The marching melody of heavy solid boots,
Big boys on the floor in their black armoured suits,
Stomping dramatically across the metal, iron floor.
Then the murmur and whisperings of my brothers as they proceeded to implore
That I remain firm, firm from within,
Full of eemaan and taqwa, so that I could be with Him,
In the sense that if and when I would fight, insha’Allah, I would be far from sin,
And that in one sense or another He would help me to win.
For it would not matter if I took a physical beating,
The victory would be in that there had been no retreating.
Standing up resolute for what I/they knew was right,
And not just fighting because I felt that the price was plentiful and not tight,
For if someone is on the truth, then how could they be bought?
Except that if they were, then what they gained would be naught.

Brothers in Guantanamo were standing up and being I.R.F'd every day,
And for worthless reason some might say.
But it was not for a cup, or a tissue, or the use of a pen.
Rather, it was for the reason of being held unjustly deep in the lion's den.
I was and am a Muslim; I claim/claimed to have submitted my soul to Allah's cause,
Even if one chooses to engage me and put me through wars.

I faced the men in black in their riot gear and boots.
I faced those men in their armoured suits,
Because of what I believe in,
Because my iman felt so high.
I faced those men because I was ready to die.
Too strong a word, what am I saying?
Allahu Akbar keep me praying

Source: al-istiqamah.com

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