Legacy

Who gave me this belief
that I take up precious space on earth?
That I must tread softly, that my feet must not trample even soil,
which being lifeless, makes demands that I, the living, obey.

Who gave me this fear
this timidity that crawls along my spine?
To flex it like a bowstring
at the very sight of other humans.

Father, why did you teach me
that I must fear the dark and all those that lurk in the dark?
Why did you make me responsible
for the sewage that runs through their veins?

Mother, why did you tell me
that my head must be bowed
and my happiness must be the lenity
that I so earn, serving my Masters.

What legacy is this, Elahi!
Like a rodent with bloodshot eyes
it gnaws at the hoarded grains of bravery
turning me inside out.