Dalit Woman Poem by Mark Heathcote
Dalit Woman
A child of twelve looks back quite dignified
moderately sad dragging her cloth-sack
across lands slanting upwards putrefied.
Skies above filled with scavenging crows glide
sourcing a better livelihood or snack
in swooping, darting zigzags maniac.
While barefoot urchins search filth festering-
dumps; sweet faces covered in oily-smears
straight-backed, shoulders slouched go peppering
obscenities of our wealth pig-swilling
collecting plastics ankle-deep in weirs-
of rotting putrid waste like pioneers.
Staking out each square yard for survival
Dalit survival is no easy task
their castes bar them from any land or title
social leprosy is a life direful
living hand to mouth with expressions blank
feeding tribes their clan's apathy mean track.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 10:45:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Dalit survival is no easy task Their castes bar them any land or title Social leprosy is a life direful.... //.... I must appreciate the poet for such a poignant picture of the most neglected and deprived section of our society despite being a sizable population. I don't know exactly how the poet has got his material but I think he is not very far from reality though so much is being done for them on papers.