On Tuesday, 23.05.2017. I woke up, read a FB message, checked the news and cried.
I grew in the time when the I.R.A. were all over the news, and we wondered where the next bombing would be. The bombs were in shopping centres, streets, public places. There would sometimes be a warning given. A chance for people to escape before the moment of detonation. We would laugh when the bomb had been badly set up and failed to explode, and cheer when the army could diffuse it. Watching the news as a child, it seemed like an exciting, yet deadly dangerous game of cat and mouse. Many times though, people died.
The terrorists these days are so much more insidious, and this attack on my home town left me cold. I have pigeon-holed terrorists groups a fairly cold-hearted bunch, but to target a pop-concert aimed at children .. that’s takes a special kind of evil.
And I am proud to count Manchester as my home town. I am proud of the people who live there, and I am so proud of my city’s reaction. Reading of the sudden acts of support of kindness and love were a perfect counter point to the bomb. No cries for revenge and blood.
I saw this poem on someone else’s Facebook timeline, and I want to share it here.. If you know who to credit for this, please let me know. It’s perfect.
This is my Manchester, and may God bless it.
Credit: Ryan Williams