Break the Silence

When was the last time you really wanted (or needed) to say something, but kept quiet? Write a post about what you should’ve said.

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The Prophet Muhammad’s resting place. Masjid Nabwi, Madina, Saudi Arabia. (Photo by FJ)

Thank you Ben for the prompt, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this.

About three days earlier I came upon a post. I have this question to ask: Why are you misquoting God’s book?

Are you not lying?

What I don’t understand: Why are people so afraid of Islam, that they resort to mudslinging the Prophet Muhammad ( peace be upon him), and God’s book Quran?

They change the meaning to their own contorted version and lies.

Why do you blame Islam and the Quran, when you come across those who follow the path of darkness, and are friends of Satan?
I don’t think any religion teaches evilness.

Why do you drag Islam, the Quran, the Prophet and all innocent Muslims when an evil person does something?
Your intention should be to draw attention to the crime not to degrade all Muslims.

Why not simply say the name or names of those who commit a crime?

When are you going to stop?

Is there a limit?

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/break-the-silence/
Break the Silence

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7 thoughts on “Break the Silence”

  1. This brought tears to my eyes. In all my wanderings — here and in China — with people from all over the world, all different faiths — those who have sought my friendship with the most sincerity and in whose company I have often felt the most at home and the most free have been Muslims. I have a lot of stories about these experiences which someday might show up on Word Press. No prompt has “prompted” them yet. One was almost 30 years ago and I was teaching a bunch of young men from Saudi Airline. We were friends as well as teacher/student. Ramadan came. It’s not easy to go to school in the heat of the day and not feel thirsty. Of course, being not Moslem I didn’t have to think about it, but one afternoon I went to the drinking fountain and one of my students pulled me back, “Teacher, no!” and then he blushed. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” I felt I’d just been given a big gift of love from that student who had forgotten I was his American teacher and who saw only a friend he wanted to protect from bad things.

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