Haunted by Fire

I love you my boy
A sweet young face cradled in my arms not so long ago
When they dragged you to prison for demonstrating for democracy
You were merely a child
Not yet a match for a military with big guns

In 1988;
Wearing sandals and sarongs
Blowing in the gentle wind like
Thin autumn leaves and flickering candles of the night
Burmese people came out in numbers to let their wishes for the freedom to be known

Blackest nights and darkest days have followed since.
The choices they are allowed
Are their families or freedom for Burma
Their lives or freedom for Burma
No imprisonments in Burma’s dungeons or freedom for Burma
How could anyone ever imagine that there is any choice other than freedom for Burma?
Their lives
Their families
Their land
Their hopes
Their future
Are all intertwined with their freedom

With endless list of names under every alphabet in every prison
A handful of privileged men
With weapons in their hands are devastating the lives of our people

It must be raining all over Burma
You could hear the rain from within the prisons, I am sure.
Endless summers of our dreams seem so far away now.
I will be thinking of you my son
Remember, I will always be thinking of all of you.

You have not suffered for a lost cause but for a permanent change in Burma’s history
You have given up all of yourselves and more

If you cannot go to where you want to go and if you cannot speak the truth
Chain link fences and prison walls might as well be there
To remind us all, of our own captivity

You have come a long way from being political agitators to being the leaders of a revolution

From small candle lights to burning torches and raging fires stoppable by no one

Last September, they finally came

In processions, as far as eyes could see
In flaming splendor of golden saffron

Flowing down in chanting columns
Like the Raging Fires in my dream

Our revered monks
Descended from heaven to the ordinary mortal world and
Sacrificed for Burma