Bloody Sunday Handkerchief
By Avril Moran, 5th Year
I stood on the uneven street.
Observing closely in a cold sweat.
I’m standing far away from the march’s beat.
But close enough for the memory to keep.
I see big balloons and banners,
Held high up in the air.
“Civil Rights” sprawled across them,
I’ve nearly seen this before I’d swear.
My ears are filled with the blare of chanting.
People are screaming, yet barely standing.
Gunfire is heard and many come running.
This Sunday has turned a little bit bloody.
I see a middle aged man hobbling along.
He’s waving something either white or cream.
With a boy’s body being carried after him.
I guess he’s about the age of seventeen.
Edward Daily, the Bishop of Derry.
Is surrounded by troopers, suddenly in a scurry.
Despite his efforts of keeping conflict away,
The soldiers continues to shoot throughout the day