A Sonnet For Stan Swamy (1937-2021)

Three summers mourn since Stan Swamy took his flight,

A righteous soul by shadows overthrown.

A champion for the downtrodden, robbed of light,

His final breath a whisper, justice unknown.

 

Dark plots entangled him in webs of lies,

His fight for justice painted as a sin.

But truth, though veiled in tears, will surely rise,

His spirit ever bold, a fire within.

 

For in the hearts of those he sought to mend,

His memory a beacon brightly burns.

The poor he served, their grief may never end,

Yet from their pain, a new resolve returns.

 

So rest, Stan Swamy, though your path was grim,

Your legacy of Love has conquered Death’s dark whim.

-Frank Krishner

[Three years ago,  during the Coronavirus pandemic lockdown, Father Stan Swamy, an 84 year old, infirm Jesuit Priest, social worker and champion of the rights of the poor was falsely accused of plotting against the State, incarcerated, denied bail even though he was frail and suffering from Parkison's disease. On the 5th of July 2021, he died an innocent, undertrial,  a victim of Institutional Assassination.]