Peace and Justice Post

by Badri Raina, April 26, 2011

 

Truth may be a truant bird,

but  it  is  real, real, real;

like  radio active uranium,

you may not  Truth quell.

 

You  may trap Truth in uniform,

you may wash the ink away,

you may stamp it underfoot,

Truth will have its day.

 

Nor god nor man can  build a cage

of  subtle secrecies

adequate to quell the Truth

or bring it to its knees.

 

It flies past the Commissioner

and his  obliging policemen;

it brings the wasted corpse to life,

its death is never done;

 

it crawls on badly broken wing

into the  murderous lap;

it sneaks from out the  buried life,

it draws a relentless map

 

from perfidy to perfidy,

from encounter to encounter;

it winks from the weakest little twig

at the mightiest chief minister.

 

The Truth, it is Banquo’s ghost,

sending  banquet into flutter;

it makes of  Macbeth a shivering thing,

it is  Justice’s  bread and butter.

This entry was posted on April 26, 2011 at 3:09 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.