Bradley Snowden Assange

Bradley Snowden Assange, in our trapped Misery, the least we may do is to salute you...  
Badri Raina Delhi 

Bradley Snowden Assange, I say, for

You are one — born to protect

What  was once proudly American;

Selfless beyond our  tutored  

Incomprehension. 

Even as all around us, the “best” hoard

Their  lives  and open their abuse

On behalf of the  “patriotic” gun,

The  corporate board, and the politics

That  “god-fearing”  red-necks use

To trample the world beneath

The ordained boot, romping from

One massacre to the other

Like proverbial bandicoot,

Snooping among “unalienable”

Privacies not just of those without

“manifest destiny,” but of those

That inhabit the “land of the free,”

You fling your soul like streak

Of light across the

Satanic  gloom, thinking nothing

Of losing your life if, courting death,

You may illume to common sight

And knowledge the perfidies of those

That,  pretending to maim and disfigure

On our behalf, fatten on the ruse. 

Bradley Snowden Assange, in our trapped

Misery, the least we may do

Is to salute you,  not  just as martyrs

But harbingers of hope and apostles

Of truth, returning us to the lad

In the manger whom Herod, like

Our present-day tyrants, saw

As the mortal danger who had

Best be dead. 

Not he, but the empire crumbled

As the force of innocence rumbled

Through earth and sky;

 You beckon us to  something similar

 Even as we sneak or standby.