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Knight of the Heart (knightsheart)

Poetry, Short stories, Blog, Titan

Dunblane

In memory of the 16 children shot in their classroom in Dunblane, Scotland March 13, 1996

The children come to pay their respects

To those just like them who fell unknowing.

Innocent tiny ones leave their flowers

And toys with tears and questions

And parents all weeping.

We weep. We weep for the children

Who lie in the cold. We weep for the parents,

Suddenly old. We weep for each other,

No longer bold. We weep for lives ending,

That death may unfold.

We weep for a world

Where small children die senselessly,

Where babies and children learn sorrow exceedingly,

Where pain comes so quickly and tears come so terribly,

With sadness for infants we weep.

The children come to pay their respects

To those just like them who fell unknowing.

Innocent babes, they leave their flowers,

Their verses, their drawings, their tears,

Their innocence lost in weeping.

– March 1996 –

Scotland RR by Sean Vessey

Lament

We weep. We weep for the children

Who lie in the cold. We weep for the parents,

Suddenly old. We weep for each other,

No longer bold. We weep for lives ending,

That death may unfold.

We weep for a world

Where small children die senselessly,

Where babies and children learn sorrow exceedingly,

Where pain comes so quickly and tears come so terribly,

With sadness for infants we weep.

We weep for a time

When children are hurting,

When pain lurks in seconds,

When loved ones are weeping,

With pain and with sorrow we weep.


scoland loch

Dunblane II

A small boy comes, flowers in arms,

Places them wonderingly for the children

He played with. He leaves a note,

Painstakingly written, pencil held tightly,

“Hope you have good games in Heaven.”

Others come; a blanket of flowers

Lines the playground, flowers for Victoria

And Colin and Mheiri. Notes for Charlotte,

For John, for Melissa, “We miss you”

“Love from Mum” “Remember, remember.”

Classmates bewildered catch the heart,

Playmates of old, yesterday laughing, running,

And jumping. Death robbed them all,

Not only the dead, but those who yet play,

Hoping there are good games in heaven.

******
My mother, Cyrilla Vessey (4/3/1935 to 4/3/2010) wrote these poems after the 1996 Dunblane Shootings. They seem more than appropriate… we are still weeping for the children and those added to the victim’s list from the Newtown shootings.

Photography Scotland Series S. Vessey copyright 2010

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