To Olof Palme,
leader of the Swedish Social Democratic Party
from 1969 until his assassination in 1986.

Lars, remember those nights in the park,
huddled beneath the stars,
fists clenched against a world
rigged against the powerless?
Remember Lars?
Please, don’t laugh Lars.

We were young then, Lars,
naive maybe, but we believed
and change was possible.
We fought against the tide, Lars,
against the rising hate,
the widening chasms,
the fascists and the nazis.

We thought the older generation,
steeped in their apathy, were a dead end.
We were going to be different.
That’s what we thought, Lars,
Remember Lars?
Please, don’t laugh Lars.

Look at them now, Lars.
The very ones we swore to fight against,
draped in the flag of democracy they mock.
They call themselves champions of the people,
Remember Lars?
Please, don’t laugh Lars.

The very monsters we railed against, Lars,
parade inside the parliament,
 trophies of power in hand,
oblivious to the struggle below.
all kinds of hysteria their shield.

And Lars, be careful.
Don’t let their eye catch you
They don’t understand what being human means,
dissent is a disease,
a threat to their gilded cage.
do you remember Olof, Lars?
Please, don’t cry Lars.