Shahin Shabanian
Dedicated to the 43 disappeared college students who were being trained to become teachers and to those who were murdered and buried in unknown mass graves in Mexico.
Through the haze of political clouds
From the heaven above
Zapata peers into his beloved land
Full of anguish, inflamed and sad.
His voice resonates as storms of the sea
And winds in the mountains,
Where his spirit roams free,
And his voice permeates through far lands
“Our children are abducted
They are tortured and murdered
But we fought and died
For tyranny to be ended.”
“In my time,” Zapata recalled,
“The old banditos had some heart and soul
When called to defend the country, they played important role
And many gave life to save those from whom they stole
But today’s banditos and government work together to control
And they sell their country and people as a whole.”
Today’s drug-lords have the same creed,
As rented-politicians and financiers with greed
They are members of the same breed;
They rob the people from their public need.
A voice was heard from the yonder
This nightmare is for all to ponder
The world should scream like a thunder
Authorities be removed if they wander
Mass graves and deprived lives
Shattered flowers by butchers’ knives
Monsters rule the country with mobs
Dead children end up in garbage dumps
Now, it is the time to rise again
Clean the house from misery and pain
Remove the corruption so justice can reign
In Mexico, Tahrir and Ferguson
To the afflicted fathers in fears
And to the grieving mothers in tears
I am one of the 43
And they live within me
Mexico’s heart and soul,
Its people must control
The world is with them for a basic change
To the history such a change is not strange