Keling

A heart felt poem written by Sheena Baharuddin.

7 a.m.
cool breezey,
me looking as muslim as muslim can be when:

She sees me,
points at me
roots me out from my solid ground
"are you a keling?"
she asks me accusingly.

Funny how seconds stretch into eternities when one is under the scrutiny of a thousand eyes giggling, laughing, demeaning-
me.

Funny how
in one word short
she undermines the sufferings of my grandfather,
him chained to the feet in a land
he was brought to slave in,

him making sounds that would soon define who he is

Kling kling kling,
goes the sound of the chains
kling kling kling,
goes the sound of me.

in one word short,
she forgets that her ancestors and mine
shared the same blood line and faith
we used to revere together at the breasts of
Shiva, Ganesh and Kali

Yes Kali, the mighty goddess who
crushed
a thousand armies
with the beat of her violent dancing

kling kling kling,
goes the sound of her anklets
kling kling kling,
goes the sound of me.

Suddenly:
7 a.m.
hot scorching,
me looking as keling as keling can be
a crying girl was all
that was left of me
yes

that WORD became me.