Freedom Whispers

In shadowed alleys, beneath watchful eyes,
Freedom whispers, never dies.
Soft as breath, yet strong as steel,
It plants the seeds of what we feel.

Walls have ears, but hearts beat true,
Carrying messages old and new.
In coded glances, subtle signs,
We share the hope that intertwines.

Books once burned now live in minds,
Passed in whispers, between the lines.
Songs of revolt, hummed low and sweet,
Rhythm of resistance in each heartbeat.

In secret gardens, ideas grow,
Nurtured by those who dare to know.
Fingers trace words on dusty glass,
“Remember freedom,” as seasons pass.

Candles flicker in windows high,
Beacons of trust that catch the eye.
Each tiny flame, a silent roar,
Defying darkness, longing for more.

Underground presses churn at night,
Printing dreams in black and white.
Leaflets flutter, take to wing,
Carrying truth of which we sing.

From mouth to ear, the whispers flow,
A river of hope, quiet and slow.
Building strength with every telling,
Until at last, it’s loud and swelling.

For freedom’s voice, though hushed and low,
Has power that tyrants never know.
In whispers soft, yet thunder-strong,
We’ll right the wrongs, we’ll right the wrong.

So listen close, and you will hear,
The sound of chains that disappear.
For in each whisper, freedom calls,
Until at last, oppression falls.