A WAY OF REMEMBERING GIBRALTAR
The freezing rain pelted down;
I faced the oncoming traffic
without blinking as headlights blinded and horns hooted
in support of our line, our attempt to
jolt memories. Our attempt to say;
The freezing rain pelted down
and I could not have been colder if I’d been shot dead
with my hands held above my head in Gibraltar!
but here in Belfast on this apocalyptic night
my hands held the poster across my heart
to hold tight, the dream they dreamed.
The rain got colder and thicker
and our white line picket grew longer and stronger
no one moved or fell out until the end
soaked to the skin we hurried home
to talk: some to pray, but all to remember
twenty five years ago that day. Gibraltar.