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(Inspired by the Irish troubles and the hunger strike) Starving for peace, Fighting for freedom, Breaking for love, Song of sacrifice.
I HAVE met them at close of day Coming with vivid faces From counter or desk among grey Eighteenth-century houses.
At the back of people's goodwill On old Clifton Street We 7000 assemble, We 7000 meet. Some without limbs, Some deaf, some blind Some wasting away, The souls that were left behind.
Slowly, leaning forward, I press my ear against the door, and listen. The home is now an empty house, but the hushed echoes of the many lives shared; reverberate off the quietly listening walls.