Haroon

As promised, more poetry, this piece is called Haroon and is about my name.

Haroon

Origin story
No spider bites
Dropped in Luton, via Pakistan
East end matriarch named me
Right-hand man of a tongue-tied prophet
Religious narratives are the roots to the branch of this tree
Musa and Haroon
Myth or reality
Don’t know
Don’t care
I’ll turn myth into reality
Took damn near four decades to roll off of my side and learn my true role
Speak up 
Speak loud
Never bear false witness
Here I am
Stuck indoors
Crisis turned opportunity
Clarity points to purpose
What is in a name?
EVERTYHING

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