Each day I ask a question, how much more can we rot?
I asked this question again, when Gauri Lankesh was shot.
I didn’t know her at all, but knew of her concerns,
how not to stay silent as her beloved nation burns.
Gauri wasn’t alone, there were many more of the pen,
whose voices were stilled with bullets, again and again.
They knew that the fires within just needed a spark,
and so they were silenced with shots fired in the dark.
The tyrant fears ideas, and the bigot fears reason,
every dictator considers dissent as high treason.
They let loose their dogs of war, to snarl and to bite,
cowards, doing their evil in the thick of the night.
But ideas are like grass, the more you try to mow,
they sprout everywhere, the more they’ll grow.
Come use your words, raise your voices, shout in anger,
for we’re in the face of the most mortal danger.
You who feel the loss of Gauri, and share in the pain,
promise. take a pledge, that her death will not be in vain.
Her voice has been silenced, but her words ring true,
the fight she has left behind, is now for me and you.