SEVEN HUNDRED AND NINETY SIX


Seven hundred and ninety-six

Barely born, young innocent souls

Never given a chance at life

Born out of wedlock,

Born out of luck

Considered nothing more than livestock

To be buried ‘neath sewerage; bricks & muck

By the cornerstone & bedrock

Of Ireland, the Catholic Church, stuck

Still in the dark ages

Who heaped shame upon unmarried mothers then

For “living in sin” as they say

Mothers

‘Give up your baby

Pay your penance in the laundries’

Never told of their fate

Treated them as dirty whores

Social lepers;

Religious outcasts

Thrown out of the Kingdom

Children

Malnourished; neglected

Emaciated & rejected

By the church and state

Complicit with them

Paying money to the run the institutions

Wash their hands

And clean the slate

Society complicit with them

By watching on;

Allowing it to happen

Indifferent to the massacre

Going on behind closed walls

Out of sight, out mind

 

Their voices now crying out

From beneath the grave

The echoes of which

Now reverberate loudly

Through the once locked up corridors

Of Ireland’s minds

Clearing the closets of all the skeletons

Lifting up the bulging dusty carpets

Under which years of dirty secrets lie

 

Written by Ken Hume

March 2017

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Published in: on March 25, 2017 at 1:30 pm  Leave a Comment  

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