Ode to transgender
How many times,
Will you silence those voices,
That sing the piercing rythms,
Of abysmal acts.
It ain't a song my dear,
But the heart's wailing that you hear,
For it needs expression,
A place to stay alive and roam free without subjugation.
She sits on her folded knees,
And screams of blood-red scenes,
That her eyes witnessed,
And her voice recapitulated.
As that grows loud,
The song echoes around,
Of pain, of raw bloody pain,
That her mind endured through seasons of rain.
She is human, there's no one to blame,
She feels the same, She bleeds the same,
That birth defied her family's expectations of a male,
As the hormones delivered the characteristics of a female.
For all the names that you call,
Genders that you create,
A human stands to be recognised as one of yours, but much better than yours.
~ Swetarupa Mishra