The Martyr

I mentioned the murdered Archbishop Luwum in a previous poem posted on this blog, 'Urbi et Orbi'. I was very impressed at the time not just by his bravery in face of a horrible death but also by his refusal to cease praying even with a gun pushed to his face. I was also rather tickled that the Anglican Church - I was still a nominal Protestant then - had produced a genuine martyr to join the countless thousands of Catholic and Orthodox martyrs. Hence I wrote this sonnet which really does not do justice to one who confessed Christ in exremis.

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In memory of Archbishop Janani Luwum of Uganda, martyred at the hands of the dictator, Idi Amin, 17 February 1977.

The tyrant who is honoured on parade

Deputes his men to turn and keep an eye
That during his interminable tirade
No-one will lift his head and answer, “Why?”

The bodies of the just sprawl on the ground
Beaten or shot like so much captured game;
But though in death they hardly made a sound
Their cry escaped the barracks all the same.

And for the Ruler now there is no sleep,

Only the damage that a thought can do;
The people have their martyr and they weep,
And he has made the many from the few.
The tyrant orders smiles to lift the gloom,
But slowly counts each person in the room.

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© January 1980