'cultures of protest'

so you detest
and choose to infest
certain cultures of protest.

I am painting my body
The shade of your ire
The bruises you gifted
Spell freedom in dull black and blue.
i doubt you can read it
But can you feel it throb-
a determined pulse in fiery red
that writhes resolves and revolts?

your fingers still clasp my arm
where i have Angelou tattooed-
'Still i Rise'.
Do you know her?
classrooms and libraries
seminar halls echo with the voice
of that phenomenal woman;
all you hear is someone's mann ki baat.
But can you see me rise and
walk up to you unafraid of the mob
you always seem to need with you?

I heard you on tv today-
What makes you so angry?
(I read somewhere anger stems
from low self worth)
There is also a saying.about empty vessels.
What are the chances you would have heard it.
But can you hear the voices
(of those who teach right from wrong)
dignified in their words
as much as silences
telling you your time is up?

Wake up. Smell the coffee.
We can organise tea if you so prefer.
Come sit across the table.

(Though your lathis and bricks tell me
that the room for discussion
has been demolished,)

Leave your saffron clout and un-reason
at the door. Bring your reasons.
Lets talk.

For otherwise
You are nothing more than
incoherent ramblings of fear
and insecurity seeking an ego trip.
Sorry.your flight has been cancelled.
Here take this shred of decency.
(it lay unclaimed outside college.
Must belong to one of yours.)
And walk away.

Too much to ask?

P.S. - Be afraid. Be very afraid-
You say.
Right back at you.