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[ On the Dublin bombings of 17 May 1974 ] Half-past five on a Friday evening Young women from the countryside, Minor servants of the Irish state, Were making their way to trains out of the city The buses were on strike so everyone was on foot Pushing past others on crowded footpaths. That evening an entire family was gone. And a woman about to have a child was gone. For a survivor of the Great War this is where His path through life ended. Sitting in the library, taking notes from my books I felt a thud, a blow in the chest as the windows Shook from the shock many streets away. And with it the sudden realisation That this spelt death for others. No-one close could survive that blast Or just by fluke be only injured and not die. For the media the question was Which group did it? Why here in our city, far from The troubled centres of the north? Others thought of those bereaved and The broken lives of those maimed. This act left us helplessly reflecting On who could muster enough Hatred for this crime and left us Thinking of the evil of violence and The greater evil of its glorification. |
