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There Are Men Standing at Drumcree

By Marion Saunderson

There are men standing at Drumcree
who do not know they count for nothing.
Old men and young,
men all black and bitter orange
and thinking why they stand is important.

No, not so.

They have hearts of stone.
They have no hearts at all
to stand there still
against three small lives.

It is a sharp thing to remember
Antrim is brought to me
through my father's own blood.
To know some of my kin
might stand there at Drumcree;
my kin might stand there
against three small lives.

I curse the fate that makes me of their blood,
those men who stand at Drumcree.
I do not want to be of these people
and what they do.
I cry at them to leave off
and I raise my fist at them.

But no. No.
I must put this by and not be what they are.
I must let the anger be washed away in my tears.

For the sake of three small, sweet lives.

July 13, 1998



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