The Command

This poem, inspired by a visit to the site of the 1919 massacre in Amritsar, and also referencing the Troubles in Northern Ireland, Peterloo and Tienanmen Square, and with an epigram from Rwanda, is in my collection Guerrilla Country (Flight of the Dragonfly, 2024).

The command
‘An order is heavier than a stone.’

The magistrate, for fear 
his fear will come to pass,
sends formal notes to regiments.

The chief of police, sure they 
wish bloodshed over peace,
calls out the words that make it so.

The soldier puts in play his plan 
to teach these people 
what he understands. 

***

A simple mark, 
a sound or gesture 
sets in motion—everything.

Block exit gates with bayonets.
Cut through the crowd.
Fire tear gas, baton, then live rounds

above their heads—
then lower. Aim at where 
the densest groupings are.

Don’t shrink—redouble your resolve 
when they begin to flee.
Send in the tanks.

***

Inside, 
the image of the golden sanctum 
barely shimmers,

pilgrims walk in silent circles,
heel to toe, around 
the sarovar.

***

How certain must they be,
who utter these commands,
the stage they stand upon 

and laud and idolise 
is crumbling in the sea?
Where do their shadows go?

And where do ours,
who fail to prevent 
their words?