।। ত্রিতাপহারিণী ২০২০।। T3 শারদ সংখ্যায় Hannah Nicole D’souza

The Press’ Cage

It’s easy to sit and do what you’re told.
Cause if you don’t, they’ll break your bones.
The bones that hold your flesh up
On days that are limp,
And even at night when everything’s still,
They want you to obey, to conform, and rely
On their sources infinite;
And yet when you question their motives,
Their lies—
They never fail to reach out and twist and
Make your bones cry.
They start with threats to the little ones,
Slowly sniping them in their temple of knowledge.
They then proceed to jab at wounds,
At scars of yours which are long forgotten
And when you don’t yield, don’t crack, don’t conform,
They knock at the door of your heart—
The reason you breathe.
And snap the last two bones that held you up
Since conception to birth to life anew
Like twigs of a weak branch under the barren trees
Of autumn mornings.
They leave you to breathe because you are just flesh.
With nobody around and your truths, a lie.
For even when you speak against that authority
That has a foot down your neck,
The masses only see you as a deviant soul
And when you speak of the injustice done to you for writing freely with your pen—
Nothing but the truth.
The crowd shakes their head
For you shouldn’t have been helping the rest,
The ones whose bones are crushed instead.
You shouldn’t be telling their stories or yours,
After they’ve come to your doors and ripped you to shreds.
And even if, with means unknown, your words get out,
It’s already too late—
You’re six feet under,
Hidden under a slate.
And for all the truths you’ve spoken,
The lies hold the world together.
For fear is greater than the words of your pen,
Read but never spoken.
Your thoughts linger in their minds
But they won’t shed light to any of the crimes,
Lest their bones are broken.