Aurochs to Zorra

Folkright

Folkright


We languish in the jails you built.
You sent us there, but never visit,
using others of our kind to bind us,
make us pay for pencil, paper.

For being poor,
our teeth will rot, our bodies follow.
Not because we do not care,
but health is rationed here.

We are your step-children
begging for the scraps.
You’ll mend our bodies, for a price.
Who’ll mend our broken spirits?

You take what ’s ours and guard what ’s yours.
Not house, nor car, nor land remains,
gone for taxes you impose
for wars against the others of our ilk.

We have nothing, if not bought and paid.
It is our right to live in pain.
It is our right to breed and gain
the price of life, sweet death.

Our multitudes, someday, will rise,
and raise the banner high
of Human Rights, what ’s left,
and take from you your privilege.

It is our birth and folkright!


© Kåre Enga

folkright: a law or right of the people as opposed to
that of the privileged classes.