Do Not Believe What You Hear On The NewsA Poem by Sel Whiteleyif just one of you passes this on in America or England you would be helping, we need to bring attention to this, I cannot believe what is happening. This is not poetry I admit, this is shockMotionless, as in some nightmare, I stood on roads edged with timber-framed pubs - where some beloved relation was interned. Somnolent silence torn by children's screams on seen-it-all before Bogside streets
That car engine alone was active, a nine-year-old glued helpless, hysterical, to the windscreen as if giving one final hug to a family member taken without the dignity of flashing lights, sirens, human rights, like three decades ago. And all the Bogside neglected to look
"Walk on, love," a white-haired woman states, perhaps her husband was interned thirty years ago, her son jailed now, I walk on, seconds later, the car speeds off with this little boy still on top, and he bounces free onto concrete, a miracle he wasn't thrown under the laws wheels.
There were lots of white-faced ghosts in town, talking of innocent sons, husbands, fathers, interned and I think whether the Bogside was again barren of youth as in seventy-one. This is nothing short of a war crime, please help, and "Do not believe what you hear on the news." © 2009 Sel WhiteleyFeatured Review
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Added on September 20, 2009 |

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