I was reminded of a piece of poetry today, from the pen of poet and friend Gerry Cullen, having watched with some interest, news of the arrest of my own county-man; Independent Wexford TD Mick Wallace today, during the mid morning.
On a date last April, both Deputy Mr Wallace and his colleague Deputy Miss Clare Daly were each fined €2,000 at Ennis District Court on two charges of breaching security at Shannon Airport, in July 2014. Their reasons for breaching security was that the Irish Government were knowingly facilitating the killing of innocent civilians in Iraq and Afghanistan, by allowing American war planes to land at Shannon Airport.
By Mr Wallace’s reckoning close to two million citizens were unnecessarily killed in Iraq and Afghanistan between 2001 and 2013, and the Irish Government have allowed Shannon Airport to be used to facilitate that destruction.
“The Irish Government says it cares about the current plight of refugees, and we’re still allowing Shannon to be used so that planes can go bomb their homes and create these refugees. We then kill half of them and make refugees of the rest of them,” Mr Wallace commented; on his release from jail.
Mr Wallace has since been granted temporary release from Limerick Prison following his arrest for the non-payment of his €2.000 fine. The taxpaying public will be thrilled to note that having travelled some 404km (252 miles) over a four hour period, using presumably Garda transport and being accompanied by possibly two Garda personnel, Mr Wallace is then released two hours later.
Regardless of the merits or not of Mr Wallace’s actions, isn’t Ireland, despite our recent financial difficulties, a great little country really? But enough from me – read the poem hereunder and weep.
Syrian Sand (Poem courtesy of resident Tipperary bard, Mr Gerry Cullen. © )
When Lisa sent me pictures I remembered what they say.
A picture paints a thousand words and I had none that day.
Yet words of Gods and words of men and power and greed demand
That innocence in children’s blood congeals on Syrian sand.
So where is good and where is God and where the human race.
When children die and mothers cry and hopeless every face.
The speakers, moral teachers in the halls of justice stand,
While innocence in children’s blood congeals on Syrian sand.
The Super-powers play Tug o’ War and news and printed press
Give precedence to spoilt Celebs, as the world just can’t care less.
When war spits out it’s victims there are none who understand.
Why innocence in children’s blood congeals on Syrian sand.
Then it’s always been the blameless and the unimportant poor
Who suffer most, when evil calls with blood-lust to the door.
And future prospects aren’t bright, for where’s the caring hand,
Of Gods and men, while children’s blood congeals on Syrian sand.