"Detainee! Detainee! You must comply with commands.
Your time is up".
I looked at the sergeant and pondered his demands.
I was angry yet calm. I was ready to fight.
"Not today, Sergeant; I’ve got at least ten minutes.
If you don’t like it, then you can come in,
But I think I should let you know I've got no intention of letting you win.
Someone's going to be in pain tonight.
Because it’s a matter of fact, Sergeant, Detainee 10007 is ready to fight."

I had been known to spill blood and shed tears for many a futile cause
Prior to embracing al Islam, in dunyafied (materialistic) wars.
So standing there in Guantanamo Bay,
Facing the guards, would I run, would I sway?
Perhaps I was about to shed blood for not one but many wars.
Perhaps some would have felt that this was nothing but another worthless cause.
But not only for one reason but for many reasons good
Helped me to make that decision, why I remained, why I stood.

I remember fighting for Arsenal both home and away.
I remember fighting for so many things in many different ways.
Now here I was, in front of the US army.
Some might say that I'd lost my mind and was completely barmy.

All will have their era.
All will have their time.
Now here I was in a new arena,
Was it their time, or was it mine?

About to deal with an important matter,
I looked into his eyes and I saw some flatter,
For rumours had spread that I had been number one,
A kick boxing champion second to none.
Guards from all over the States had come to know,
And now it was time for some to enjoy the show.
Detainee 10007 was about to fight.
You know what they'd be talking about at chow that night.

"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 (faith) 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