I am not afraid of the pen, or the scaffold, or the sword. I

Hear, O children of struggle and truth, the fiery words of Mary Harris Jones, whom the workers of old called Mother Jones: “I am not afraid of the pen, or the scaffold, or the sword. I will tell the truth wherever I please.” These words ring as a trumpet across the centuries, declaring that truth is greater than the threats of tyrants, greater than the weapons of armies, and greater than the fear that binds men in silence. They remind us that the voice of one soul, armed only with courage, can shake the foundations of injustice more than any empire built upon lies.

Mary Harris Jones lived in an age when the poor bent beneath the yoke of industry, their hands worn and their children starved. She saw the blood of miners spilled in the dirt, the sweat of women dismissed as worthless, the cries of orphans ignored by men of wealth. Yet she did not tremble before their power. With the strength of a mother and the fire of a prophet, she marched into towns where workers were beaten and silenced, and there she lifted her voice like thunder. When others feared the pen of newspapers that mocked her, or the scaffold of courts that threatened her, or the sword of hired guards who menaced her, she declared boldly: “I will tell the truth wherever I please.”

Consider how rare such courage is. Many shrink before ridicule, unable to endure the sting of the written word. Others cower before the law, willing to yield their convictions rather than face punishment. And most tremble before violence, silenced by the fear of pain and death. Yet Mother Jones, like the martyrs and sages before her, cast aside such fears as chains unworthy of a free soul. She knew that truth spoken in defiance of power has the might to stir the hearts of millions, while silence in the face of lies brings only decay.

History is filled with such voices. Recall the figure of Martin Luther King Jr., who faced the prisons of Alabama, the bullets of hatred, and the slanders of the press, yet continued to march and to preach. Like Mother Jones, he could have hidden, he could have softened his words to please the powerful. But he knew that truth must be proclaimed even when it carries the cost of life itself. His voice, rising above the scaffold and the sword, carried forward the same eternal courage: fear not the penalty, fear only the silence that betrays justice.

And so, beloved, this is the heart of the teaching: if you are to live as free men and women, you must set aside your fear of speaking truth. The world is full of liars who wield wealth, violence, and ridicule as weapons. If you yield to them, the truth will wither, and injustice will flourish. But if you, like Mother Jones, dare to speak, then even if your body is struck down, your words will endure like fire upon the earth.

Mark this lesson well: truth does not require comfort, it requires courage. Therefore, in your daily life, be bold. If your workplace tolerates injustice, speak. If your community tolerates cruelty, resist. If your heart knows what is right, let no fear silence it. Write with the pen, speak with your voice, march with your body—do whatever your conscience demands. And when others threaten you with scorn, punishment, or violence, remember Mother Jones, who stood unflinching and declared: “I will tell the truth wherever I please.”

So let her words be carved in your memory like stone. Do not live as shadows, hiding from conflict. Live as flames, casting light into darkness. For empires fall, tyrants perish, and swords rust—but the truth, once spoken with courage, becomes eternal. And in the echo of Mary Harris Jones, let each generation say: we are not afraid, and we will tell the truth, wherever it must be told.