Meter Monday: "The Scythe of Diversity"

by Radhika Sharma

Must I be stabbed, must I be broken,

Life as it is, I came with a token,

My skin, my faith, decided already,

Till I act like it, all remains steady

I’m different, unlike you,

A shade dark or light,

But why must I bow,

To the tyranny of your sight

You see me, you know,

The judgments you call home,

Are nothing but a cage?

Only sheltering my rage

Tears from my tired eyes,

Pierce my heart with despise,

Why am I pied? Why am I different?

Owner of my body but feeling like a tenant

Call me names, know me from first look,

Say God loves us all, it’s all in the book,

But words are forgotten, we don’t practice what we preach,

All cut from the same cloth so why reject me?

It’s a deafening silence in this room of unfamiliarity,

It’s a blinding brightness for everyone but me,

I’m left in the dark, odd out of all,

From the scythe of diversity, today I will fall

Sensitivity this scythe did reap,

Now I’m left dead cold,

Loosely bound to this world,

The world I thought I could afford.

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