Images

My sky may be black,
Or yellow, or white,
I may like men,
I may not have a choice,
I may wear a skullcap,
Or tie a knot in my hair,
I may speak some language
Or the other,
I may be rich, indigent,
Or even boring middle class,
I may live in the first world,
Or the third,
I may be autistic,
Schizophrenic, delusional,
Or just plain and simple crazy,
I may not even be whole,
Whatever.

This much shall remain true,
Always,
For you I shall ever be a stranger,
You will never accept me
As a part of your world,
You will always exile me,
Stamp on me, smother me,
Make me slink to the ghettos,
Condemn me to dark bylanes,
Deny me an address,
Or an identity.
The rainbows in my eyes would not matter,
I won't be allowed to cry.
You, who want nothing,
But a mirror to look into,
Every time you see my face.

And so, I must
Speak from these pages,
Where my voice has no colours,
No smells, nor sounds,
Where my gender, or even a lack of it,
Would not smother my voice,
Where neither my politics should be relevant,
Nor my language,
But only my yearning to be heard,
To belong.

And yet,
If you shut your ears,
And there is still,
A shadow of strangeness in your eyes,
What choice will I have,
But to let my voice shatter
Every single mirror in this world.