I Will Rise Poem by Shirani Rajapakse

Genghis Kahn rode through the land,
across mountains and plains
cutting me down, leaving me in shreds. But
I rose. The old university at Nalanda
torched to the ground by fundamentalists
believing only their right. Stakes driven
into bodies of monks. Death,
destruction all around. My words turned
to ash my body to dust. But I rose,
just as I did again when
the Nazis threw me on bonfires, locked me
inside cauldrons of hate, set fire to my
brain and played with
my body because they didn't like what I said,
the way I lived and breathed or who I was.
But I rose above it all. They cut my
tongue so I wouldn't cry,
chopped my fingers so I could not sign
then left me to die in a cold dark
prison. Yet again I rose. They burned
me on a stake in an European
town. Called me a witch denied me a voice. But
I rose. My book was banned they threw me
out, hounded me across continents
because I didn't conform
to what they wanted.
I hid for awhile. And then I rose.
They blew up the Buddhas of Kandahar,
desecrated the shrines, ripped holes
in the sands of time. But I rose.
They shut me up in the land
of the free. Told me everything was as it
should be. Politicians were good, Wall Street
so pure. Still I rose.
I tempted them, that's what they
said as they threw a
shroud and covered me up like they do the
dead. My voice was weak but I rose.
They broke down the walls of worship in the
desert, killed the statues and set fire
to manuscripts. But I rose. They did all this, I'm
not surprised, not one bit as someone
threw a bomb inside my house and let it burn,
burn. My words crumpled and turned
to cinders and they think
they have won. Yet I will rise. I
will rise. For I am truth and I will rise.