To continue on the subject of growing up during the Troubles in Northern Ireland I recall that going to and from school became an anxious ordeal. Schools were segregated along religious lines, they still are for the most part, so we passed each other going in the opposite direction. Now we never played with or socialised with members of the other faith so "they" simply represented the enemy, faceless and featureless.Segregation allows for dehumanisation and that is what happened. Today,nearly 60 years on, only 7% of schools in Northern Ireland officially offer integrated education. (see link at end of poem for more on this.)
We would skirmish daily over the right to walk on the footpath, the losers being forced on to the road way... and some days it got out of hand.
APPEASEMENT
I am ten
and there
is blood on my hands
and the
faces around me, even the jeering ones, are silent
and there
is blood on my coat
and I can
taste it in my mouth - I have licked wounds before
and know
what blood tastes like: not sweet or salty, but sticky - if that is a taste
and the sea
of faces parts
and I am
watching them envy me
and it has been
coming for weeks : arm- linked gangs, us and them,
and each claiming
the footpath for themselves
but this time
he broke rank and went for my throat before the chain broke
and I see
my mother’s face
and black
out
and when I
awake my father is talking
and there
is shame in his voice
and the
boy’s father is here too
and the
boy, his face not so close now, holds a box of chocolates in his hands
and he
offers them stiffly, his body held back as if he is afraid of it
and my hand
reaches out
and I say
thank you.
For that is
what they want now.
That is amazing.Wow!I am speechless.
ReplyDelete