Poetry

Benazir Bhutto
1953-2007

Ya, Bhutto
Who are these people
Who kill fathers sons daughters
What God do they serve
What ghost in the night
Is there money enough
Power enough
Greed enough
Murder enough
To satisfy this beast
Who devours all in its path
The children of the poor are not safe
Even children of the rich
This monster is vile
His teeth a wicked bite
Snatching you like Godzilla
When you came home preaching freedom
But there are those who cry freedom
But mean slavery of yesterday
There are those who pray in the mosque
Then murder in the street
who crush the spirit
Who silence the poets
The singers of freedom
Who deny the humanity of women
What God is this
Who empowers these devils with lust
and venom
Worse than the cobra's sting
Ya Bhutto
What now in that sacred land
Shall your sons take the mantle
Shall the children cower in fear
Or will they stand
face the guns bombs
Paid by the Mighty Beast
Who shouts democracy
But means slavery
Who allows dictators to crush opposition
To be president for life.
He discards his general uniform
To dawn the suit and tie of Shaitan
To claim the persona of the puppet
Who smiles in tears
Choking from strings hanging from his neck.
Ya, Bhutto, you tried
To bring a better day
But demons must play out their drama
Their dance in the night
They will never put down their butcher knives
Never turn into Buddha heads.
More must be sacrificed
The judges and lawyers are not enough
The soldiers must accept flowers from the people
Not slaughter them in the streets
There are not jails enough to confine freedom
The torture chambers may fill to overflow
But freedom must rise at the end of the day.
Ya, Bhutto, your last word was the magic word: Allah.
Surely we are from Allah
And to Him we return.
--M
12/28/07

Marvin X gave written permission to me to publish his poem.

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The Journal of History - Winter 2008 Copyright © 2008 by News Source, Inc.