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tyrant tirade

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     Hear me,
     tyrant.
     Listen and choke:
     the minds you mold,
     the souls you flood with sorrow --
     one line from me
     and cold hearts stir again.
     Freedom dodges you in shadows.
     Seventy years are not enough,
     a thousand would not begin 
     to change the simple fact:
     not your soldiers,
     police,
     not even nuclear weapons 
     do my words fear!
     Rape my mind,
     snuff me out
     and the words live on 
     but stronger.
     And another
     and another,
     and another poet
     will breathe a light
     that touches your oppressed.
     I know.
     I have seen the faces of 
     friends
     raised in the stench
     of your rot.
     A melodie -- they sing.
     A song -- they dance.
     A poem --
     their hearts 
     laugh
     and sob
     and love
     and die.
     Heaven descends
     to end your reign.
     You cannot reach
     the place I touch.
     You are right to fear me.
     Death,
     torture,
     labor camps.
     The very sentence spells your doom.
     Rail against Fate!
     The clock ticks
     for you
     in the hearts of those 
     you deny.
     And when, as now,
     you crumble,
     do not rejoice 
     at chaos.
     The struggle and the unknown
     fire the passions
     you smothered.
     Die in the flames!

Copyright © John Robert Boynton, 1994