How many lifetimes would I need
Merely to read aloud
Only the names of those who died
At the hands of the predators,
The unaccountable rulers,
The great dictators.
Only to make a start,
I would set up my soapbox at Hyde Park Corner
Keeping apocalyptic preachers company,
Or occupy the Empty Plinth in Trafalgar Square
With a friend, a lunch-box and glass of water
And read aloud to those who might listen
And those who care,
From a text that would solely consist
Of a verified list
Of innocenct lives lost
In the entrenchment of every autocrat
Who in his lust for power
And the creeping poison of his paranoia
Tramples on justice,
Makes torture a tool of government,
Imprisonment his answer to his critics
And execution his advocate.
And as each page of the list would fall
To be floated away by the wind,
My friend who surfs the internet
Would step up to supply me
With a new list to dismay and terrify me,
A list in forty languages and more
A list to extend
And exceed all other lists that went before.
And he and I, alternatively,
Reading in relays would take breaths;
Speak up, read on;
As if by calling out a name we might restore
The breath of life; or at least,
A stranger in the milling crowd
Might, after half a day, exclaim
‘I knew him!’ or ‘I remember her!’,
And justify the roll- call,
And suddenly give sense and resonance
To names on pages blowin’ in the wind .

By John Garbutt