Bruised, but not Broken (poems)

-Challapalli Swarooparani 

31. The Rejected

I’m the unlucky destitute
Who lost her mother in the labour room
A Rohingya Muslim,
A rejected human being
Carrying my burden of engulfing gloom
On my head
Wandering places.

A faceless man without even
A shameful piece of place
To sit, stand, place both my feet upon firmly
Or an endless sky to raise my head and look at,
Or a nation of my own.

I’m a Rohingya Muslim!
A born-terrorist who emerged
From the matrix of my mother
Clutching bullets in my fist
From a cursed race.

My birth is criminalized
I’m rejected, despairing.

I’m a Rohingya Muslim
My superscription is blood-smeared
I’m the river of sorrow
Flowing like an orphan
Between two countries.

I’m an unanswerable question
Hanging from the gallows of a crusade
An oozing wound.

In that zone where I am
Even pigeons of peace
Turn into blood-thirsty wolves.

I’m a Rohingya Muslim!
Not having a motherland
Or mother
An equivalent situation.

Pampered children
Of motherlands
And cosy citizens of the world
Remember
I’m a Rohingya Muslim!!

(Telugu: “Tiraskritudu”, translated by N. R.Tapaswi and Published on Face Book timeline of the author.)

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(To be continued-)

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