I didn’t know the difference anyway,
The taste of the rice was same in every home,
Of Hindus, Muslims and Christians.
Sunday schools partially done,
Under Protestants bare roofs,
And then under Catholic’s beautiful figurine ones.
I bled red and my hair turned grey,
On knowing love is mostly conditioned,
And biased based on color and skin.
When they say some jobs need suits and not skirts
I wonder what difference it makes!
Mostly the words bounce within my skull.
Leaving no trails of an existence,
That questioned partial systems.
– Emily Parker