UNHAPPY ANNIVERSARY

Today is the tenth anniversary of the 7th July London bombings that caused the deaths of more than 50 people and signaled the emergence of "homegrown jihadists' murdering in the name of Islam.
I was in London that day and found the atmosphere depressingly reminiscent of the bad old days in Belfast, when Irish Republican terrorists routinely targeted civilians and when coordinated bombing attacks on the city centre were a regular occurrence.
It's sad to relate that many of the leaders and supporters of that IRA campaign are now prominent in government in Northern Ireland.
Might we expect their Islamist equivalents elected to Westminster in the fullness of time?
I wrote this poem immediately after the Charlie Hebdo murders in Paris. It seems appropriate to feature it again today.

LAMENT 
 
Ice petals on the blackthorn bow,
in twilight, masquerade as white
but it will never blossom now.
The world is slipping into night.
Weep for the last-extinguished light.

For generations to be born
into a world without birth-right,
for darkness, fast approaching, mourn.
Weep for the last-extinguished light.

Grieve for the final, breaking wave
that slips away, the bird in flight
that falls to earth, the hungry grave.
The world is slipping into night.

Tears in the grey, relentless rain
resemble signatures we write
on farewell notes imbued with pain.
Weep for the last-extinguished light.

Lament the sharpness of the blade,
the flesh, so vulnerable and slight,
the future plans so rashly made.
The world is slipping into night.

We must stand firm, repudiate
the bullet in its ghastly flight,
the torrent of extremist hate.
The world is slipping into night.
Weep for the last-extinguished light.