I Dreamt Of The Troubles
Northern Ireland, it was a peaceful Saturday of August 15,
1998. There were many people shopping in the center of
Omagh, in Tyrone. Then, at 3:10 p.m., the car bomb
exploded close to the junction of Market Street and the
Dublin Road. The bomb, the murderous bomb, the
life taker ripped into the flesh, the existence of 29 people,
men, women, children, including 2 unborn babies. It
injured 220.
Britain's PM Tony Blair, Marjorie Mowlam, the Secretary
of State Northern Ireland, Mary McAleese, President of
the Republic of Ireland, Bernie Aherne, the taoiseach
Irish PM, all condemned this slaughter of humanity.
The Irish National Liberation Army called itself the "real"
IRA, claimed responsibility. They had slain God's own.
I dreamt of the Troubles, as mournful Celtic music
slowly played in my sorrowed psyche. Blood on the
shamrocks as the bombing victims still tell their story.
In my daydreams, children's choirs sing-
"When Irish Eyes Are Smiling" in many other areas of
the world, in the merriment of children's goodness.
Death should not collect especially the young, the hopes
of all of Ireland's youth, including Northern Ireland.
These days gang violence has made more shamrocks
bleed, as the gangs murder each other's dreams.
All of the emerald beauty's Troubles cannot fade into
history without the names of the innocents, and their
blood will not disappear. The tears of generations of
her people, her mourners, in every one of her rainfalls.
And I, an American of both Irish and British heritage,
grieve for her too. ~
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