One, two, three…
The gavel hits and the rags carry the now inevitable sorrows back home, moved to the side of the road-riches are late for celebrations of injustice. Only before the handshake of bribery seals the deal and power takes down the weak, the tense tears of clear innocence murmur silently in practice.
Words to protect his name, this ‘nothing’ has done everything from providing evidence to reaching out to witnesses. But everything is not anything close to more bundles of money added to the paycheck of the highest seat, “Order! Order! Order! The witness stand is as empty as their dark hearts as they laugh in victory snatched away from the needy, from the better part of this court.
“The witness was unable to be present”, they say. So well, we await the flashing headlines of a new mysterious death today, termed ‘coincidence’ and yet the hands that carry the blood, pop more bottles in the name of celebrating existence and success.
The judge faced more threats than brought out victims. Fearing the words… ‘You don’t know who I am’ more than the oath made in presence of the Holy Book. The Law Lord flipped the script, made the dreaded sentence and walked past all his made promises of fairness and justice. The fear that rises after “guilty” is pronounced, stuffs the room. Giving up was a step taken long time ago, the moment power walked in. Now, panic and horror spills as the armed men lock the cold cuffs and drags deserving leaders out into more terror. Carefully thrown back to the mud, that’s where they came from right? And again, we await the meaningless campaigns about fighting corruption, changing the unjust laws, lifting the deficient and making the law breakers pay dearly.
But of course, Your Honor, corruption is paid by the poor.
Diana Indigo