The Triumph of Death

The Triumph of Death

William Barry                                                 THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH No longer moan for me when I am dead                         Than you shall hear the surely sullen bell                         Give warning to the world, that I am fled                         From the vile world, with vilest worm to dwell;                         Nay, if you read this line, remember not                         The hand that writ it; for I love you so,                         That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot                         If thinking of me then should make you woe.                                                                         W. Shakespeare. Yesterday's People                 By William Barry This  Poem  ‘Yesterday’s People’ originated  from the thoughts,  feelings and  deeds  of a  young  Palestinian boy, who throughout his life suffered  the agony as do  the  Palestinian  people  with the  inhumane, cruel and  brutal repression  perpetrated  by  Israel’s  occupying  military  power   across  Palestine.   His Poem represents his thoughts, his words,  his observation of the on-going brutality  used  against  innocent  people  and  the  lack of  international  support  for  a  positive solution  to  the   occupation.  The   ongoing   existence  of  a  confined   people  has  generated  a living  hell,  exploding  the  bubble  which  formulated  and  resulted  in a  Palestinian  Uprising, thus  converted   men  and    women   into  bombs  and   bullets  to  uphold  their   Right  to   Self Determination.    They  danced  with  death  under  the  Gallows  of  injustices  and  to-day  their dreams are still hollow. YESTERDAY’S PEOPLE My Dear little brother, two darling sisters and loving Mum, I feel impelled to write you a few lines before the setting Sun.                         For we owe a dept to those who went before us in recent days.                          I have great confidence, no misgivings in which I’m engaged To break the fascist tide across our blood soaked sands, Our ancient homeland, Palestine.                         For every day, over the year’s tanks and planes kill and maim, We run, we hide, and dive in a struggle to survive.    What do they care who live or die, Once victory is on their side? Those who ventured to protest Suffered death, laid to rest More engaged, they were aware That humane treatment was unfair. And through the seasons cheerless days People’s homes were set ablaze The world at large will not admit a wrong. To save their faces, they bluff along. Others watch but leave with heavy hearts When disinterested parties starts. For its prison life no one can ever tell, Confined within the concentrated cell. In a circle trapped, a horizon of death A living hell, no hope, innocents die. The seasons four, the enemy never sleeps. I ask why? They gather upon the mountains and kill without a reason,                                     As they launch upon our olive fields the avalanche of war,                                     Across our peaceful land and skies, I ask why? The clouded foreign F11s thunder flies, and dives,                                     To burst like thunder with lightening flash, as innocents die.              I ask why?                                     Who will shield our ancient race?                                     For it has become a burial place?                                     The proud lords with heavy purse                                     Their demons spread the modern curse.                                     We dig the graves for our ancient race!                                     In future time what shall befall my ancient place?                                      Shall all forsake their dear birthplace?                                     The old soil where our grandparents sleep                                     As the invader continues a vigil keep. To those who have forsaken us, I cry shame and shame on you again and again  For converting me into a bomb and bullet.                                     For in confinement there is only death.                    To all, do not label us in your ideological ways,                                     For history tells us of the Nazi ways.                                     Too long has terror reigned! By cruelty unstained I cannot bear.                                     For Palestine’s cause I’ll pray and care.                                     The crippled children lie and cry on Gaza’s streets,                                     The dead carried away in blood stained sheets. For freedom’s right, be it night or day                                       I ask what mighty rights have they.                                     To kill and maim us every day?                         Children won’t ask for pity, but surely we must care- For two million children surrounded by despair,                          No happiness do children know only death and fear. Can you see the children, some not recognizing their parent’s face? That only yesterday they loved, traumatized by war and race. Can we understand or have we really tried?                         Mum, my love for you is deathless for it binds me with the peaceful moon,                         To break the fascist tide in the blood soaked sands, amid the suffering and doom,                         Of the revolution in defence of our people right to freedom soon.                         I’m willing to lay down my joys to set our troubled land free.                         Palestine’s love is your love and warmth of those blissful years,                            Yet, the love of this land is a true feeling of your soft tears,                         A memory of all those youthful moments I enjoyed with you.                         It binds me to you and yet that love for our land is strong like you.                                              Dear Mum, my little brother and two loving sisters,                         Let me read to you a letter, read to me by Mum when I was eleven:                         On the death of Dad, defending the City of Jerusalem in ‘47                                                                         Mum sat and listened to others cry Of her tears of pain and fears                                     And wondered how he would survive                                     In detention, the days, months the years.                                                                                     He died for love of family and our land.                                     He was one that struggled on           .                                     For in death there is no pain                                     Just like the pouring rain.                                     To miss him is to love him!                                     Many Nations may never understand.                                     Now, God and justice hold his hand                                     In peace he rests so close your eyes                                     And know that one thing’s sure                                     That we love you dear with each tear                                     We keep you near, within our hearts.                                                          And the land you defended to the last.                         Mum, now 47 years have passed As refugees in Camps do mass;             We still seek Justice! For in Poverty there is no pride. In Hunger there is only pain. In the Streets there is war and blood                        Detained in a cage there is no freedom In hospital, innocents lie and die, where is their justice? I hear the cries of children over days and years. Only volunteer Nations and the United Nations care!                         God, take me to a safer place                                     For they have enthrall me in a cage.                                     Ravished me, never to be free.                                     Take me to a better place and make us free.                                                             I speak with the voice of your daughters and your sons,                         And looked through the eyes of the innocent ones                                     And hear and see terror in their eyes and pitiful cries. We are men and women, girls and boys that soon will die.                                     Mum, when I am no more, never forget how much I loved you,                         For when the last breadth leaves me it will whisper you name, And for this proud land, our memories of fun under the green palm trees, Inside our imprisoned land, Palestine where I was born free.                                                 To live in freedom is our vital strength!                                     Life is lost unless we survive:                                                                        I shall continue ‘till I die                                     In life I live, in strength I die                                     A life of pain I do not want                                     For I will die that you will live.                                                                         I feel grateful to God, our land and to you Mum as my peaceful dove, For I must decide between my country’s love, and Mum, your love. Forgive my faults during my boy-hood foolish ways.                         I shall always be with you on dark nights and warm days. Dear Mum, do not morn me, just wait for me for we shall meet again. Oh! Mum, don’t cry, for tears of happiness was yours when I was born.                                                     Angles of mercy answer our plea Carry us safely home from the scene.                                                 For many the meaning of Peace and Justice has yet to be realized                                            For the love of Liberty never dies.