by Maureen Browne

Something of the old way reborn:
the gentler art of higher thought
sweeping through China in sun-coloured
clothes like waves of golden corn –

thousands of citizens up with the dawn,
in fields, parks, factory yards,
to follow the way of Falun Gong,
peasants, scholars, soldiers, drawn

to this psychology without borders:
gentle movement, meditation, cultivating
compassion, honesty, patience,
communist cadres hit back with the orders:

Falun Gong disciples to be taken,
shackled, sleep-starved, beaten,
tied down in stress positions
for hours, until their faith is shaken,

until they admit they were wrong,
sign the paper saying they are willing
to transform, to renounce
the pernicious cult of Falun Gong,

or be tortured until they don’t survive
the electric shocks, the drug cocktails,
the smashed spines, the organs cut
out of them when they’re still alive.

A peaceful people, a sunrise
brightening our path, tortured to death.
The flags of victory fly, the songs
of celebration drowning out their cries,

and will I, will you, just go ahead
ignoring inhumanity again.
We saw the hell of persecution,
will we forget the Never Again we said.

* * *

 

Recognized as 4th Place in FoFG’s 2025 Poetry Contest