http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Today’s poem first appeared on the
blog in 2015.
As the UK - along with the rest of
the world - continues to cope with the Covid-19 coronavirus and the subsequent
stresses and strains it imposes on our everyday lives (as if there aren't
enough of those in modern times anyway) crime continues to
flourish, not least on our streets where tensions boil over and express
themselves in a terrible violence.
There are no excuses; reasons, yes,
but no excuses for allowing the kind of pressure most if not all of us are
under to get the better of common sense, not to mention common decency and
respect for human life. Killers ultimately destroy their own lives as well as
their victim's. As for pleading 'justice'; it is not for any of us to play
judge and jury to the extent of taking the law into our own hands, much as we
may well be tempted.
[Update: January, 2020]: Official figures released in April
2019 reveal that knife crime has surged to the highest levels since
records began in England and Wales; worse, it continues to rise.] RNT
Memories are precious and love never
dies. But let’s face it; it can never compensate for not having our loved
ones with us and watching them get on with their lives.
Today’s poem is for families and
friends left behind when a loved one dies. It is especially for parents who
have lost sons and daughter; no parent should have to bury their child.
Whatever the circumstances, death is always a tragedy for those left behind,
but what can be worse than to be left with the image of a loved one meeting a
violent end or never even knowing what really happened or having no body to
bury…?
All knife and gun crime, but
especially hate crime, and particularly among young people must stop.
While many parents, teachers,
social and youth workers take every opportunity to lead intelligent, sensitive,
debate so these killers realise they are not just killing a person but
amputating the limb of a vital, living network of family and friends that will
never be quite the same again.
There is nothing ‘cool’ about
street crime. Young people who think it takes carrying a weapon to achieve
street cred or even as a means of self-defence should bear in mind that someone
could get so easily killed or suffer serious injury…and it could well be them.
Nor is time spent in prison
anything to boast about. I once spoke with a young man who had spent time
in prison but chose to turn his life around. I asked how it was in prison. He
said unhesitatingly, ‘There wasn’t a day I didn’t wish I was dead.’ Thankfully,
he is alive and getting on with his life in a very positive way.
Every killer has a choice.
Tragically, victims killed in the course of violent crime on our streets have
no choices left. (I read somewhere that most killers regret their actions, but
as my mother used to say, regrets are cold comfort in any language...)
Meanwhile. family and friends are left struggling with what-might-have-been...
THE ANNIVERSARY
No grave to tend, but a street
corner
to leave flowers, recall
how here it was where last we'd
laugh off our being so much in love
as if it were child's play
Leaves, scattered over paving stones
where once we children
loved to play, I-n-n-o-c-e-n-c-e
like the tail of a kite in a feisty
breeze
all but free to go its own way
Come twilight, more haunting
shadows
marking time before darkness
effects its cover-up for humanity,
half the world sleeping, the other
dying
for a chance to have its say
No grave to tend, but a street
corner
where anniversary flowers
can but hope to message passers-by
how sick minds think it could well be fun
to stick a knife in someone...
Copyright R. N. Taber 2002;
2018
[Note: An earlier version of this
poem appears under the title, 'The Kite' in First Person Plural by
R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2002]
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