Tribhanga

On these days when I rarely feel like a man
I break my body at every juncture
– Shoulder,
– Hips,
– Mind.

In all of these black-white days,
I become citizen of Bharat.
A shloka visions a dream;
1:1 Of the Divine Destroyer, who will suture the truths of the planet, be wary
1:2 Of Hate whose face I see so clearly, beware
1:3 Of Destruction which wants to eat with the Gods only to forget that they are images.
So here I am, facing the Divine Emperor and I am trying to put all my rage in front of Him.
The entirety of my country’s rage, my world’s rage.
But I speak not word, I become the limitation of my skin
which is a newly sprouting virus.
I am bound by skin and language
and masks
and penis and hate,
and I’m searching for you.
In this forest where you are lost,
I keep looking for you everywhere,
I keep returning to only find you lost.
I look inside my heart and find only desolation.

So, on the days when I do not feel like my country,
I stance tribhanga.