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
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