Eulogy of the Mutes

I hear an echo on the wind 

It was billowing before my birth 

And it will join me when I’m dust. 

I hear an echo of the righteous 

Now a sanctimonious gust 

On this wind are weary words 

Tired truths and tautened morals 

They’ve been stretched like ropes of taffy 

Bit and gnawed on, as if sweets 

Brought nutrients to the body 

Yes, I hear the echo 

But I crave to hear a voice! 

Yes, I feel the wind 

But where is the storm 

That does more than ‘influence’? 

A rape is no less likely 

Because you wrote a poem. 

The world will not rise 

To thank you for its eulogy. The truth 

Is not lit by an illuminated lie. 

Yes, I heard the wailing 

Of souls in search of absolution 

From the evils of the time 

But these cries I’ve heard: 

They're just moral alibis. 

Just prayers without a punch 

Just emotion bereft of motion 

These two-ply paper towels cannot 

Scrub the sin that stains this world. 

They are not Great Neptune’s Ocean 

Don’t mistake me, I hear the echo 

But it has run its proper course 

There are words on the wind 

It is time to find their source 

And fan the iron flames of change 

But if the hand of justice be restrained, 

If Lady Liberty has fallen mute, 

If words are all you can afford, 

Die on your pen; 

Prove its might to the sword.