In despair, leaning down,
he kissed
for the last time
her cold unresponsive lips;
even in death,
there in the rubble and clouds of dust,
huddled in raw spillage
of innards, blood, and bones,
his daughter’s hair
was never less than lovely.
Omagh
August 15, 1998
3.10 pm.
If this is what it takes
to unite our country,
you cannot count on me.
Our natural borders
should run from the centre to the sea,
but no sane living person
condones barbarity.
Never for a moment think
‘The Cause’ authorises you.
Ireland despises you.
Links to a local site and the BBC.
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I was in Omagh visiting an old school friend about a week before the bomb went off. We were in Paris when we heard the news and couldn't get through on the phone for hours and hours. Apart from the horror of it all the main feeling one had at the time was one of humiliation and fierce and total shame.
