हरिजन

Aerial, my roots crept around my elbows

and my neck, my teeth, knees

like puppet strings, inconspicuous but heavy;

I became a forest of entangled veins

where, at ever node, grew thorns

that struggled to protrude over my barriers of skin.

Jarring breath notes punctuated my words

that were born in an inky flux

from the abyss that hollers from the pit of my lungs.

All day my cardiac structures pushed and pulled

to pump healthy amounts of slime into my system;

all night my eyes searched for a stale wisp of nirvana

in the uncemented corners of my confines.

No leech could suck this poison out of my blood,

no fire purifies a soul corrupted by its birth status.

Isn’t that why you taught your children

that I am Untouchable?


Aerial, I clench my roots with my teeth

and wrap them firmly around my fists and feet

one lunge after another, I climb over every

sphere of space, holding on to my roots.

I am wildness incarnate

cutting through centuries of hysterical exploitation

with my thorny veins as my blades.

Each blow to my gut, each slap to my innocence

Painstakingly punctuates the movement of my ascent.

All day I raid tombs of memory,

my history fuels my roars of red rebellion

All night I resurrect the vows that got buried

 under unmarked graves and cremated with unliberated souls.

Melting the shackles around my tongue with the acid in my blood

I nurture the incendiary spirits of my forefathers in my hollow bones

Teach your posterity, I am not to be toyed with

For I am the Untouchable.

 

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