by Helen Drayton

In the quiet of the day, the sun’s rays come
On wings of time. They shine upon believers
Of truth who plead for human rights.
Their warmth dries rivulets of tears, flowing from nights
When dragons, spitting fire, torch the dancing agony
Of the oppressed, bludgeoned for faith
In liberty, the sovereignty of self.

Oppression torments the powerless.

In the quiet of the day, the sun’s rays come,
Shedding hope where caged doves coo,
Yearning to fly away over mountains and hills,
To sip the waters of life, and sing in praise
Of the freedom to be. Sun’s brilliant light
Can not blind wisdom, the supreme inner
Power blunting autocrats’ blades.

Wisdom brings hope to the powerless.

In the quiet of the day, the sun’s rays come
To open the petals of flower children
Desiring the rights that nurture life,
And soothing beams whisper
Courageous words to the brave, silencing
The noise of broken bones from batons
Ogres wield as they shout words of power.

Courage gives voice to the powerless.

In the quiet of the day, the sun’s rays come
To believers, chanting freedom refrains
Above the din of the oppressors’ shouts
Beyond horizons of seas, summits
And valleys below, echoing the cry
Of every human to believe, and
Sound the Gong for human rights.

Sound the Gong for human rights.

* * *

 

Recognized as an Honorable Mention in FoFG’s 2024 Poetry Contest