An Occasional Poem for March 29, 2018


          after Yeats

What do we need, now come to sense
but find the hefty wherewithal
to free this man free of offense
whose case holds many in its thrall—
but not for them, his eighteen years
that he has languished in the gaol,
but for his family’s worse fears,
let this not end in epic fail.
Let law’s worst errors be undone
so finally justice will prevail.

Yet “fumbling in a greasy till”
for one solved case will not undo
the system that we have here still,
so much of it is misconstrued,
too mistried, unfair, tortured, so
focused on the adversary
not any desire to follow
truth or facts, no emissary
of such so that in the ending
there is no end. We’re left wary.

And yet, we’ll chip away like this,
readers, thinkers, coming along,
while lying witness’ Judas kiss
can be unlied and right the wrong
as NGO’s and volunteers,
pro-bono lawyers and the press,
podcasters’ cell phones show up here,
search for the truth, provide redress.
Here’s to Rabia, Brown: Sayed--
on to Pelletier, Montgomery, and the rest!