With My Hammer

IssueFebruary - March 2016
Feature by Shannon Smy

ImageYou who see injustice all around
But have not the courage or the will to fight or stand your ground
We who see but are too scared
There are not enough of us prepared
To put our lives at risk time and again
And then comes a drop of rain
To the parched lips of a world

That needs to feel hope again
We are dying as a people and a nation
A third of our people have been killed in 21 years
Of illegal occupation
Ten UN resolutions
Requesting Indonesia to withdraw
They chose to ignore
And a woman cried
If you are really human
You’ll stop them sending these weapons to our shores

With my hammer I break the chain
I will not remain in silence
I will stand and I will defend
My right to fight against violence
No prison can contain
The freedom that we gain
When we move through fear – here

Laws of our civilised land are quite clear
Selling weapons to dictators who murder, starve, rape and torture is illegal
But there is timber, there is oil, on Indonesian soil
And there’s money to be made from the arms trade
Our boys need jobs, you shouted from the rooftops
But not one word of the lives lost or destroyed
I cannot believe you continue to deceive yourselves in this way
Or the people that you pay to make the jet fighters


To think, to plan they took a year
To build trust, to work through fear
At 3am on a cold January morning
At BAe Warton, no one saw them, no one gave the warning
Hawk jet ZH 955 came alive to the sound of singing hammers,
the hanging of banners,
the scattering of seeds and ashes on its wings
And the women waited to see what justice brings
For 2.4 million damage done
Thirteen million for a new one
We are not martyrs or heroines
We owe so much to our friends
Who held our courage in their hands


And after half a year in jail
They came before a court of law
And the truth the jury heard and saw
Stunned them into silence
And when the verdict came (not guilty)
Justice had been done, the celebrating could begin again
Dancing laughing praying weeping crying
And in East Timor they danced and laughed and cried some more
And as the seeds of hope begin to settle on the ground
A gentle rain begins to fall


With my hammer I broke the chain
I did not remain in silence

Topics: Arms trade, Activism