He stood where justice feared to walk,

a voice of reason, a man of fire.

With every word, he woke the nation,

and power trembled at his name.

They came at dusk, unseen, unheard,

and took him past the silent border.

No trial, no charge, just empty laws,

a prisoner in foreign hands

A court of soldiers, a scripted tale,

where truth was lost and silence ruled.

Kenya watched, its lips pressed tight,

while justice faded into night.

Martha rose, her voice unshaken,

speaking where the fearful whispered.

Beyond the hills, the world took note,

asking where the law had gone.

Charters signed, yet torn apart,

rights declared, yet cast away.

A man in chains, a trial of shadows,

while nations turned and looked away.

How long will courts bow to power?

How long will voices drown in fear?

No rule lasts forever, no silence is endless—

the dawn will rise, the truth will stand.

The gavel waits, the people watch,

tyrants waver, time moves on.

For justice lives in those who fight,

and freedom burns in hearts unbowed.

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