Dalit

All hopes were imprinted on me
Like a branded hide
To be of this mind or that, but not to be ones own
The destiny written on the narrow lanes
In between the farms, where feet, and dusty clods of earth
Carried your dreams
To walk amongst the villagers was a taboo
To lay eyes on the deity that was just a stone
With a stone heart, beastly  eyes and tongue flaring out
Yet we prayed to their gods from a distance
To the full moon we murmured  our hopes
We humbled under the banyan tree
Seeking roots of purpose
But none was available
For a desiccated life
This is thus a village in India
Where our huts could not face east
Or our rivers were never for us
The wells we could not use
Neither pray in the temples
We grew without access to learning
Our ears closed to the sounds of music
Our gifts were good, but our faith uncertain
The holy men would not approach their feet
We were shunned away, even our shadows considered putrid
We were born untouchables, our parents were untouchables
We saw burning of our living
And vultures pecking at our dead