By Kirsten Okenwa
Who has seen the abode of Justice?
Where does she thrive and rest in solemnity,
Reigning as chieftain, defying wickedness?
Who knows the domain of Justice,
Where does she hold sway?
Is she satisfied after a day in the courts,
Does her grey hair inspire equity?
Does Justice prowl the streets in authority,
Does she find uprightness in the church?
Have you heard them hail her,
“Salute! To Justice, salute?”
Have you seen her bronzed marks –
On the limbs of the young,
Or her wise-grey streaks
On the hair of the old?
Who has seen Justice gambolling?
Is she jubilant on the dirt paths of the poor;
Those helpless ones called dispensable?
Who has seen Justice crush the wicked,
That conceited oppressor and tyrant?
Show me Justice.
