Saturday, December 25, 2004

The Blacksmith and the People

He has become larger than life.
He was plucked at the height of his greatness.
He was stolen at a time when no one expected him to be taken.

He was great because he embodied the hopes and aspirations of a people
Awashed by sinister leaders in their ivory towers
He held in his hands the dreams of a nation
Beset in crippling poverty and mindless greed

And the people did come for him
Out from the rundown apartments, muddy alleys and dirty shanties
March they went towards the church and towards the grave
In thousands and millions they kept coming
And walking, and chanting and believing

That all was not lost in his passing
As it was one for the silverscreen once again
That it was not one Great Leader who will deliver the nation
From oppression and exploitation and poverty
But the masses in all their raging glory

Those feasting in power must now beg their leave
As the people will come for them, too
But send them to the gallows
The people will pluck them in the shadows, at the height of their contradictions
And put their heads on the silver platter they stole
On the gates of their factories, farms and mansions
Built from the blood, sweat and tears of the people

That just lost their one, true hero.
Their blacksmith - their maker of arms for battle is gone
But the weapons are ready and the enemy can be seen in the horizon.

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