Identity Poem by Ajit Das

‘They’, ‘We’ and ‘I’ spring a surprise
from a slanting headline in a Daily.
It wears out; the question resurfaces.
Really, who do I belong to?

Those who toil from dawn to dusk,
ploughing the dried up field,
carrying load on hot, cobbled road,
searching for shelter in stormy night;

or, those who flaunt their clan,
trumpet their faith, decrying others’,
glorifying their precincts,
raising walls of divides all around;

or, those, each an individual, grandiose,
entitled to special treatment,
more important than others, engrossed
in the pastime of his selfie?

It’s stratified; the perennial query
about ‘how’ may persist, yet pull down
the barriers, drown the identity
of an island in the sea of humanity.