Douse

An expression of solidarity with one of the most stigmatized groups in our society. Transgenders don’t need sympathy. They need respect and deserve to be treated as equals as much as you and me. Having said this it is oxymoronical that I feel the urge to take out money and give when they come demanding for it, as that is not an action of equal treatment. But by not doing so tantamounts to disdain and abject neglect of the third gender. The poem is latent with pain and remorse of the way we have treated our conspecifics for millennia. With hope for a better world where they get their due respect in all walks of life.

 

A familiar sound produced by

Two clapping hands,

Shook us from the reverie

Into which we had fallen,

Thanks to the soughing melody of the Express train.

 

This time instead of pretending to be asleep,

I welcomed the stranger with a smile

And thrust the first note, I could get hold of

When I reached my shirt pocket.

 

I smiled as she blessed me

Well built, dark and swarthy

Nature’s beautifully carved unique product

Not a mistake emanating from God’s laboratory

But an experiment, mistakenly interpreted

And punished by his less worthy creations.

 

The least I could do was to

Pay a token of the indemnity

Long deserved by this neglected society

If not condemn exactly

The discrimination that her conspecifics

Had to endure since millennia.

 

Pouring a pail of water won’t

Entirely douse the ocean of fire

A conflagration of stigma

That we lit up to burn

These unfortunate beings

 

But I hope every drop will matter.