1998 Belfast, Good Friday


It was twenty years ago today…

Agreement or excellent fudge?
Not too sweet for shaking hands
that offered, amid begrudgery,
progress out of sinking sands.

Officially born as Jesus died,
ironic it yielded resurrection
after forty angry years had tried
to find us some new direction.

We were lost and losing hope,
struggling in a sorry state
of endless angst. We couldn’t cope
with love nor without hate.

But we made the best of it,
a normalcy under duress.
Perseverance, pride and spirit
in defiance of conquest.

In the stars peace shone
amid pettiness and bickering.
Moments of calm led us on,
they were brightness flickering.

Then in the absence of war
did we revel in it’s relief?
When asked ‘what are you for?’
Did our answers nurture belief?

We desired unions untainted,
where our present and history
were (shall we say) better acquainted;
where life was a joyful mystery.

But I am naive and thus exposed
by reality, unyielding like steel.
The emperor’s new clothes
worn by dreamers, worn by me.

We are two tribes, never more so.
Isolated, insular and ingrained
into our circles. We go
loyally with the ‘other’ disdained.

Who’s to say it is wrong
to recall death’s ferocity?
Anger will ever walk along
the echo of every atrocity.

And yet…we now fill each day
in a normalcy without duress,
(though our bank account say
things which do cause stress).

There is cross pollination
amongst incongruous seeds.
Growth or procrastination?
All is told in the deeds.

What future the outstretched hand?
Can harmony discord outlast?
Perhaps we might yet understand
2018, Good Friday, Belfast.

About divilthebit

Husband/father/musician (guitar, banjo) singer/songwriter/poet, storyteller, writer (www.nuthollow.com) Irish speaker, B&B proprietor http://www.wix.com/divilthebit/teachancheoil
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