When you hung there my Jesus,
Did you take all my pain?
Did you take all that terror that would torment my life,
The shoes, the fire poker, the knife.

These shoes that proclaim the Gospel of Peace
Is that what you gave me for my release.
That rod of iron and that knife
Is that why they tore your flesh, and not mine.

When you hung there my Jesus
Did you take all my pain?
Did you take all my loss, and call it gain.

Did you take the names they called me,
The Harijan, Untouchable, Unclean, Churi, Outcaste.
And did you not call me Beautiful, your Royal Princess,
Since you I dared to touch.
And did you not enfold my orphaned heart,
And fill it with your caress.

And those demons that wanted my skin all white,
Did you tell them you treat me like gold,
Gold so refined I’m whiter than white,
Not Unclean, but Holy, Pure, and shining
In the sunshine of your Light.

And those demons that stripped me naked,
Did they hear you too.

And what of those who scoffed and mocked
The woman, the bride that I am and wanted to be.
Did you remind them
I will arise with you, your Love, your Fair one
And belong to you.

(Footnote: The poem is dedicated to the people of India,
wherever they may be, and to anyone whom the poem may touch.)