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Poem

May 1974

Why do you need to waste your time today
Writing an elegy no one will read?

Add the half-cent to the cent
And text to shivering text
For you were born to text
And save-

But let her be 
She’s dead and gone 
She’s with her baby in the grave

Yet they were of a different kind
They didn’t text
Their lives they didn’t save-

But let her be 
She’s dead and gone
She’s with her baby in the grave

Was it for this you came to Warsaw?
To write poems about the dead in Dublin?
Not today but 40 years ago-

Does it matter where they died
Or when?
Does it matter where I live
Or when?

You can come to the party
At the Irish Embassy
The minister will be there
The ICC will pay their share



Forgotten by their own race who
Fumble on the greasy keyboard
Making money and texting tinkers
Skypeing and phoning in the temple of Midas

Please let her be 
She’s dead and gone 
She’s with her baby in the grave

But should we not know 
Who her killer was?
Or at least  know 
Who connived at her killing…….


So was it for this you wrote your dirge?
To hold up  the hatchet-
To puncture the peace process-
To live through that pain
All over again

Yet could we turn the years again
And be in that same month of May?
Could we just delete that day
And save ourselves from all that pain?

Just let her be
She’s dead and gone
She’s with her baby in the grave

She’s surely dead and gone
Yet justice must be done
And we must go on

You might cry-
(Like after the Stardust fire)
‘Why?’

And I would answer -
Between neighbouring nations
That have good relations
There are no secret files, no classified information

Telling the truth is no delirium of the  brave
It is only what we owe to those in the grave

13.05.2015

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