Self Portrait

I don’t believe in God,
I look upon nature with wondering eyes.
However much I move forward grasping the hand of progress
           society’s hindrances take hold of my sleeve
           and gradually pull me backwards.
I wish I could walk all through the city
          in the middle of the night,
          sitting down anywhere alone to cry.

I don’t believe in God.
From house to house the religion mongers
         secretly divide us into castes,
            segregate the women from the human race.
I too am divided,
            defrauded of my human rights.
The crafty politician
             gets loud applause when he rails about class exploitation,
But he cleverly suppresses all the terminology
             of women’s exploitation.
All those people of supposed good character, I know them.

Throughout the world, religion has extended its eighteen talons.
In my lone brandishing, how many of its bones can I shatter?
How much can I rip discrimination’s far-spreading net?