Sack of Bones

A sack of body parts

A headless man, old they said.

Harmless to the world,

many more lay scattered in the shrubs,

women clutching babies,

little child in her rubber boots,

blond hair on blood stained jacket,

fallen where she fled.

Screams of terror,

silenced by the knife,

or one shot to the head.

Precious loving life is lost,

images of fear,

fixed on frozen faces.

Bosinia and Serbs,

Doing what they do best.

Kosovo is the place,

The pain is just the same.

It’s so distressing for the Irish football fans,

to contemplate delay,

postpone the game,

and wait some another day.

Their worst fears realized

fills the day long news

and whittles down the ticket queues

its’ a shame to miss the fun.

What else is there to say?

Shay Cullen