Poetry

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Monks of peace, saffron robed
March with quiet dignity
Arm in arm with their countrymen
Marching for democracy
Joy written on every face
As they march to free Burma
From military dictatorship

Monks of peace, saffron robed
March to end the tyranny
Cheered loudly by the people
In the face of western hypocrisy
As they march to free Burma
From Than Shwe’s vicious regime

Monks of peace, saffron robed
March with quiet dignity
Marching for Aung Aan Suu Kyi
Hope in every heart
As they march to free Burma
From an unjust government

Then the peace is violently shattered
Tear gas grenades explode
And laughter turns to screams
Joy to terror
Hope to despair
Shots ring out
Volley fire over head
Then soldiers approach
Rattan batons in hand
Monks of peace, saffron robed
Stagger with bloodied skulls
Saffron stained with blood
Fear etched on every face
Screams ring out
As people run for safety
Before the Army’s advance

Monks of peace, saffron robed
March on with determination
Until the peace is shattered again
By rifles crack
And in the echoing percussion
Monks of peace lay dead
The peaceful to rest in peace
While tyrants live to kill again
And the west looks on in shame

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