Not In My Name — Beware when the faceless citizen resists tyranny

If tyranny comes, can freedom be far behind?

Beware when the faceless citizen—

Acquiescing to the limit—

Jettison’s her fearful littleness,

Makes public her swallowed grief,

Joins hands with other faceless

Ones, takes possession of the

Street, and shakes her charged

Fist at the dissembling oppressor.

That is when the new-born babe,

Answer to tyranny, strides the blast,

And pulverizes the complacent

Mighty into tongueless retreat.


Such was the day in June

When courage poured upon

The Capital street, much like

The first monsoon which thundered

Down in blessing. Wherever

You looked, fear had been

Washed away as is a chill when

The  sun, however enfeebled,

Shows its skill.


The clarion that was sounded

Found resonance in city after

City, as men, women, children

Of every complexion, in an

Inspired spontaneity of rage

And pity determined to defeat

The cunning  and bloody trick

Of the usurper, and to

Reclaim their own Republic.


Thus, it is time to say with

The poet of old who once

Invoked the power of the

West Wind, if tyranny comes,

Can freedom be far behind?

(This poem first appeared on zcomm.org)