Poem For Eugenia Semyonova Ginzburg Poem by David McLansky

Where do they get the guards
To be our prison warders,
To be masters of our state,
Switchmen of our thoughts,
Tyrants of our bodies?

Where do they get the guards
To be our prison warders,
To slam the peephole shut,
With screams of 'No talking.'

They take them from the small
Who swell in ordered pride;
They take them from the great
Who only have their size;
They take them fom the narrow
Who hate the ranging mind;
They take them from the weak
Who fear the ones who stand alone.