Thursday, February 2, 2012

What have you told them?

I can feel their eyes on me.
Eyes, that know.

Who are these people?
What have you told them?
How do they know?

Each day,
In familiar alleys,
These alien eyes judge me.

I know the texture of that glance.
The glance that sizes me up,
Compares me to a newfound standard,
And then, sometimes,
Tries to nudge me.

Once, a woman,
You know which one,
Walked across a whole goddamned lawn
To see who I was.

What am I?
An endangered animal?
A dangerous animal?
A dangerous endangered animal?
And what have I done to be exhibited so?

You know,
I’ve never hated you,
Not even remotely,
Just don’t make me feel
That we could never have been on the same side,
Because that,
Is not true.

© Rasagya Kabra, February 2, 2012

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