While on my way to the funeral of an old friend’s mother today and reflecting on death, a poem sprang to mind but I couldn’t focus or write, I was speechless.
Speechless because of the wanton horror of events in Manchester.
Speechless because I can’t fathom how consumed with hatred the perpetrators of such an act must be.
Speechless because of the cold cynicism of such an act and how its horror factor is ramped up to achieve their aim of greater Islamophobia.
Speechless reading the headline in that Tory rag, The Sun, posting a photo of Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn that reads ‘Blood on his Hands’
Speechless that less than a day after the massacre of innocents in Manchester, the Tories and their acolytes should be seeking to make political capital out of this atrocity.
Speechless because one of the bankers who was at the centre of the Irish banking system seven years ago as well as the ruin of many people and the loss of their savings, should walk free.
Speechless because the so called ‘leader of the free world’ has just sold a $100 bn worth of arms to an hereditary oligarchy while condemning someone who has just won a democratic election on a reform platform.
Speechless that an alt-right fascist student in Maryland just stabbed a young man to death because of the colour of his skin.