This poem was written on 19 September 1986
Scene One
Clang, clang,
The bells toll and toil
As members of the village community
Join to commit one of their own to the soil.
Out of the cupboards come their Sunday best
For an unwanted occasion in the week.
Their faces hardened by the elements
Are softened by the tears that trickle down the cheek,
Unaware of those observing, passing through
In coaches, who in turn are unconcerned about that person’s
life –
Not caring to pass condolences
To that person’s parents, husband or wife.
Silently they go, some lighting cigarettes
For candles, not wanting to look back.
Going into the yellow and white church,
Which mocks their sombre, proper black.
Scene Two
Laughter, laughing,
Boys, unaware of what had gone on before,
Play unpretentiously and
With great hilarity near the door
Where their elders had mourned.
But for them life was for the living,
Youth could only happen once.
And it was the joy of the world they were giving.
Pat, pat went the ball,
The sunshine reflecting in
And was also reflecting from their faces.
Many scars had been seen on their chins
And bruises upon their knees
But they were not to be deterred
From their pursuit of games and fun –
As natural as the flight of birds.
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