Anna Politkovskaya By Shane Frampton

*Anna, one of Russia’s most fearless journalists, was gunned down in Moscow in the fall of 2006—on Prime Minister Vladimir Putin’s birthday.*

The drunkards line the streets The orphaned starve And men, once soldiers But now poor, lame shells Live in the fatally cold alleyways. Willfully ignorant or uniformed, the result is the same. Some say I’m the last of a dying breed.

He came, and with him, hope Or so the beggars my people have become thought. Shadows stir behind the Russian Parliament. Who will reveal it? I must. Some say I’m the last of a dying breed.

The elections draw near. Some don’t agree with Vladimir. Into incarceration they go. And I? Perhaps offered wealth Will change my mind? It is not so. Putin is a shameless liar And I; Perhaps I am the last of a dying breed.

Moscow- a party is raging Thousands of rubles for the oligarch’s amusement Just outside the stony building’s warmth Lay soldiers Fighting for the Russian glory Against the numbing, life-robbing Russian winter. I speak out against this, because I am the last of a dying breed.

Terrorist attacks strike yet again, They seem as frequent as the daily paper. Could it be that they are just as controlled? It is so. Some speculate. I know. And I will speak it from the roof tops Because I am the last of a dying breed. I have children. I have a family. Each day I run the risk of losing them, Each day they see their mother risk never returning home. But I cannot stand by as freedom dies Under the banner of democracy in Putin’s Russia. Perhaps I am the last of a dying breed.

Some take comfort in the media’s optimistic forecast. I know better. The police brutality will indefinitely escalate Because terror and law wear the same badge In Putin’s Russia. But there is an easier way in apathy for us Its cost is only the lives of our grandchildren. I refuse this way, and someday This will all end badly, and I will pay. I am the last of a dying breed.

Our media Once the voice of the people Once a voice of reason Once arrayed against a communist regime Now as a war hero Celebrates Stalin And those too young to know The error of this way Will make this error their way. But I will not, for I am the last of a dying breed.

I have gone toe to toe in the dark alley With murderous, deranged warlords And I share the voice of truth and reason But only time can tell- Will my words continue to fall on the ears Of the drunkenly, fearfully apathetic? Will I set my people free with truth? Will anyone continue on in the cause Of illuminating the dark, shadowy alleyways Of Putin’s Russia? Or could it truly be that I am the last of a dying breed?