Aparupa Sinha

July 03, 2001 - India
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You should pray

The hope you keep taking from them
Makes a woman a murderer.
And when they set this country
On fire and you look
At their faces devoid of fear
You should pray. But be known
No God you created to step
On the necks of your slaves
Will come to save His creator
When your genitals are contorted
And your homes are burned
And your faces lie distorted
And your bones are churned
To form a white mass of the male brain
Deprived of all colour
An object of the inhumane
Once a subject of the inhumane.
And you are eslaved by those
That wish they'd known not of civility
And known not of kind
As something one could be in answer
To you and your centuries of rape.
Rapes of their bodies, and rapes
Of their minds. Of the female mind.
And of the transpersons.
Oh you'll wish you never cross paths
Knowing full well kindness
Should be a crime when you're treated
The way you treated their kind.
You better pray to the two-dimensional
Gods you created till hope leaves
Your side and your center
Crumbles down and you never once
Hear the sound of music or
The sound of mercy or the sound
Of the sun 'til it finally swallows
What's left of your bloodless bodies
And your shadowless souls.
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