I n your hands the Banjo became
An instrument of liberation.
When you sang in that melodious voice
That mixed honey with thunder;
People marched to the beat of their hearts.
Your songs told stories, everybody forgot
Of the tired worker
Of the angry peasant
The angry soldier in napalm land
And the disgruntled man in the street.
Silence rumbled in your voice
A silence that was imposed for ages.
A silence that needed an expression.
You spoke of the flowers
crushed by the boots of war.
And your songs hammered in
Many a dusty mornings
That came after long depressing nights.
You sang of the tiny lamp that burns
Inside all of us,
And of our will to overcome.
Pete Seeger you will live
Till that rebel inside us
Breathes free.
For you were always a wake-up call
For our conscience,
A voice for humanity.
bistirna@yahoo.co.in
