Law and The Fragile Scale
The law stands tall in marble halls,
Blindfolded, scales in measured hands,
Yet whispers travel through its walls
Whose weight determines where it lands?
Was law conceived to shield the frail,
To be a staff for limping feet?
Or forged as iron, firm and pale,
For strong hands only, cold and neat?
They say the law protects the weak
But pause, and ask the deeper truth:
Who carved its words, who made it speak?
The Strong and Mighty not hunger, age, nor youth.
Why would the mighty draft a rule
That bends their crown, dissolves their might?
Why sharpen laws as self-made tool
To dim their power, dull their light?
The Mighty write laws, the Strong enforce,
They judge, interpret, jail, and fine;
They ride the law as mounted horse
While weak men walk the thorned line.
Thus justice limps when titans clash,
Files stall, proceedings drift and sleep;
But swift it strikes with thunderous lash
When weak meets weak there is no hill to keep.
Corruption oils the rusted scale,
Gold tips the balance, truth grows thin;
The poor man’s plea is bound to fail
Where bought verdicts quietly win.
If law must end this age-old wrong,
It must unlearn the rank of birth;
No class too weak, no class too strong
All equal tenants of the earth.
Let strength appear as humble clay,
Let weakness rise, made bold and sure;
Let law become a common way
Where every wound can find a cure.
Let conscience sit, not bribe nor fear;
Let learned minds refuse to travel
The crooked road corruption clears.
Till justice serves not power or name
But truth alone, exact and plain,
The law remains a titled game
Where weak men lose and strong men gain.
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