I'm a follower of Polly Vous Francais and her post today is about the riots in France.
It reminded me of "The Troubles" as they are prone to be called, in my homeland of Ulster.
I wrote this while we were on the way to a wedding in Oxford. But my thoughts and concerns were for the family still living in Belfast that day.
I didn't actually know about Omagh until we bought the paper the next morning. My poem was really just about my frustration and anger at the futility of so much that goes on in the name on politics whether France, Iraq, Afghanistan or Ireland. No prophetic knowledge of what obscene action was even then happening.
I want to go back to Ballyferris safety.
I want that euphoric upper storey experience.
I don't care how unreal it was.
I don't care how insecure the foundation was.
I want it back.
Where can I capture it?
I need a butterfly net.
I need a bottle of fresh air.
I need sand between my toes
Lots of daisies.
How could something so perfect
go so wrong?
What did we do?
Who held the pin that burst our bubble?
Why did they take away our hope?
Here we are following the M40
Down to the milllenium,
to the 21st century
behind a little red mini.
Once upon a time-
We thought every thing would last forever.
Always sunshine in the day
Soft rain at night.
Wild flowers in the grass.
I hate you Bruce Naumann.
You've let the spirits out of Pandora's box.
Nobody can ever catch them again.
Forget the butterfly net.
I despise your truthfulness.
I want to run away from your noise,
Stop the world !
I want to get off!