poem submitted by Natchai Leenders

[Natchai Leenders]

18/07/2017

The Green Fields of Manchester

Oh, how do you do, young Courtney Boyle?
Do you mind if I sit here down on this spoiled soil?
And sit for a while in the warm summer sun
I've been writing all day, and I'm nearly done
And I see by your gravestone you were only eighteen
When you joined the great fallen in 2017

And though you died back in 2017
To that loyal heart, you're forever eighteen
Or are you a stranger without even a username 
Forever enshrined behind some smartphone's pane
In an older selfie shown, shattered, and shared.
Faded to bits and bytes in a mom's nightmare.

The sun shines in Manchester, no green fields of France
The warm wind blows gently where you used to dance
The stenches have vanished long under the clouds
No gas, no heart tired, no bombs firing now
The countless bunny ears in our Facebooks stand
For man's blind indifference to his fellow man

And I can't help but wonder oh Courtney Boyle
Do all of them know why they shed their mortal coil?
Well the suffering, the terror, the "glory", the shame
The killing and dying it was all done in vain
Oh, Courtney Boyle, it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again

Did Grande play the last Parting Glass?
Did the pipes play a Manchester mass?

[Richard Deodati]

One of the most personal poems on terrorism is when the poet finds his or herself talking directly to one of the victims in the grave. This is such a poem by Natchai Leenders. Terribly sensitive and wonderfully eloquent, the discussion has a certain innocence full of sorrow and pain written all over it! Thank You, Natchai!

[Birgitta Abimbola Heikka]

Very nice poem.  Enjoyed reading it.

Birgitta