Poem for Dennis.

My friend Dennis a police officer in Northern Ireland,now retired, was on duty on the 15th August 1998, in Omagh County Tyrone. He was witness to the horrific bombing that took place that day in Omagh. In 1990 I stayed with Dennis and his wife,during my peace walk.He gave me a ride to the main road to start my walk again- just before we got into the car,he got on his knees to inspect the undercarriage when I asked him what he was doing,he said
" I am checking for a wad of Semtex" This poem is for Dennis and his peace.

Poem For Dennis

You were a brave man a man of prayer
When you joined the R.U.C for peace
Despite the negative you took a stand
A man of hero and courage a lion heart
Mother of sweet God no one expected it
Who would in peacetime Saturday afternoon
Amidst all the craic of families laughing
Calling out to neighbors about the day
Shouting at the wains to behave themselves
Trying to get a bargain dressing them for
school so they would be neat and tidy ready
For another year of learning something new
In an instant it all changed at ten after
three a car loaded with hell exploded with
no mercy blowing everyone apart blood legs
arms bellies busting glass windows out far
Tearing down shops the force of the bomb
The shrapnel rickashaying the roar deafening
Water pipes busting blood running down streets

You Dennis a man of prayer was called in from
another village from Sixmilecross you drove
Into the chaos as the wounded screamed out
You did not know if your daughters were here
among the dead the dying the frantic screaming
The angels of Mercy held you together for surly
you were in another place completely unable to
fathom what had just been done to the people of Omagh
Each limb you gathered and examined for signs
it had been sometime since you saw their legs
arms knees dear God in heaven your heart pounding
Sweet Jesus who is it who walked on these legs
Who wore these shoes not half an hour ago now
Dead amongst the rubble you find a mother her
clothes blown apart there lying her dead newborns
Expelled right out of her fat womb onto the street
Out of the warm sacs they floated in for nine months
Their mother's belly ripped open them dead on
the cold pavement beside the grandmother and the
older sister a wee child of eighteen months all
dead on the streets of Omagh four generations
taken in a blast taken from life before they got
of even take one breath of it they were killed
dear God in heaven dear mother of God cradling
their discombobulated souls gather their fragments
knit them together into a whole place in heaven
far away from this place called Omagh this bomb

Dennis worked all day and night gathering the dead
all twenty nine of them the twins made thirty one

Denis is retired now and his daughters were home
Their mammy kept them safe that day said they
had to clean their rooms she saved their lives

Omagh is dutch for grandmother and the 15th August
Is our Lady's day of Ascension into heaven she
surely guarded her beloved people of Omagh into
heaven through the pearly gates out of that hell.