♨The Protester,♨
–Zahidul Jamy

In realms where tyrants crave their endless reign,
Where voices lost to shadows bear the strain,
The people rise with fury in their veins,
Their cry, a storm that shakes the ruthless chains.

From ancient lands where emperors were crowned,
To modern states where despots still abound,
The cries of justice, echo through the years,
Their battles fought through silence, sweat, and tears.

In days of yore, where kings and queens were draped,
In blood-stained halls, where darkened fates were shaped,
We see the fall of thrones, once high and proud,
Their grandeur toppled, lost amidst the crowd.

In Ceausescu’s grip, and Saddam’s fierce command,
In Gaddafi’s rule, where chaos ruled the land,
Their reigns dissolved as people dared to dream,
And voices rose against their cruel regime.

Yet even now, beneath a masquerade,
Where freedom’s spark is oftentimes delayed,
The protester stands, undaunted and clear,
A beacon bright in shadows of the sphere.

For every struggle forged in silent plea,
For every fight that shapes our destiny,
Let banners rise and voices never fade,
For freedom’s dawn is what the brave have made.

The story of each fall, a lesson learned,
A testament to battles fought and earned,
So let the protest spread, let courage reign,
A symphony of voices breaks the chain.
03.09.2024