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I dug this old one up from an archive I had stashed away of my ramblings during the worst days of the Northern Ireland troubles.
Quite depressing for me to read it again. It was awful, being there and as children in conflict it was "normal". That made it worse.
I just publish these depressing poems to kind of lay them to rest.
Things have improve a great deal from those dreadful days. But people of my generation will never get over it.

We groan...

Fdf5205c-8b5b-4da8-a6dc-63fe28d680a9by Billy J. Stewart18 Jan 2014

The Northern Star
Shines in the night sky,
As children practice a new way to die.
Suspicious people, wretched with fear,
Alone with their sorrow
Year after year.
Lines on their faces,
Ghosts in their eyes,
They’re getting proficient at saying goodbyes.
Blood in the streams
Blood on the land
Blood is the colour of the natives red hand.
We groan…
…from the depths,
Spilling forth oceans of sorrow.
The generations of “yesterday’s heroes”
Wait for the dawn of tomorrow.