Jan 2011
A sickly sweet smell lingers
Bodies
Legs in the air
Bloated bellies
Senseless slaughter
Rivers of blood in country lanes
Hundreds of thousands dead
If this were a war in a foreign land there would be outrage
Instead of crying “Shame… Stop…”
The government shouts “****…Cull…”
and drafts the Army into a battle
on home soil that they're not trained for
It’s got all the facets of a work of fiction
******, lies, cover up
larger than life figures and unsung heroes
And above all, innocent victims
What will our children say
when they read of this real-life genocide?
Heads will hang in shame
and the pervasive memory of death will remain
Bodies
Legs in the air
Bloated bellies
Senseless slaughter
Rivers of blood in country lanes
Hundreds of thousands dead
If this were a war in a foreign land there would be outrage
Instead of crying “Shame… Stop…”
The government shouts “****…Cull…”
and drafts the Army into a battle
on home soil that they're not trained for
It’s got all the facets of a work of fiction
******, lies, cover up
larger than life figures and unsung heroes
And above all, innocent victims
What will our children say
when they read of this real-life genocide?
Heads will hang in shame
and the pervasive memory of death will remain
©Jacqueline Le Sueur 2011 All Rights Reserved
(Written in Devon, England in April 2001 at the height of the foot and mouth crisis. A forgoten poem, rediscovered this morning as I sort through my office. The poem may have been forgotten for the past decade but the sights and smells of that terrible time are as viseral now as they were then.)
(Written in Devon, England in April 2001 at the height of the foot and mouth crisis. A forgoten poem, rediscovered this morning as I sort through my office. The poem may have been forgotten for the past decade but the sights and smells of that terrible time are as viseral now as they were then.)
