Poem: Plantations

PLANTATIONS

Would these placards 

bend so feebly in febrile hands

if the song of Gaza 

was a chant of "Tiocfaidh Ár Lá"?

If the rockets Hamas fired

landed in Brum pubs 

     or Shankill shoppers' streets?

When Sands was starved

or the blood ran down Derry's Walls

did these opportunists goose-jerk

their English knees in protest?

Not that some of us remember.

Irish names, Irish blood,

Irish bombs and bullets

ballot boxes, Bogside battles

     between saints and scholars

seem and smell not the same to you

Not the same struggle you see

here in a Holy Land. On television.

It was too hard

for your heart to turn

to see any truth in your own tin pot

troops taking casualties

RUC, SAS, IDF, UDR, BBC

Shoot to kill, shoot on sight

all slid by when it was

for your protection.

'Sniper at work here'

the sign warned in a sunny 

section of Ulster's pleasant 

Orange and Green land.

You were shocked

because the sign was a warning for you

     who doesn't even know what 

     a Philistine really is.

One man's freedom fighter

is another's terrorist,

whether on rainy sod or desert road,

crowded camp or green lane.

If you choose to choose sides

then you have to take your share

of the burden of blood.

How does the heft of a rifle feel

in your hand?

Care to carry one home?

Pacifists praying for peace in these plantations.

Failing to see 

conscience creeping out of a killer's eyes.

Swords only have double edges

when the devil doesn't live next door.

_________

Copyright Zack D. Wilson 2012.

Zack Wilson's  debut novel 'Stumbles and Half Slips'  is out, from Epic Rites Press. Also available from Amazon.com.