Manchester - A Poem

On Monday 22nd May 2017, the singer Ariana Grande performed at a pop concert at the Arena Concert Hall, Manchester, England. Her fan base is young - very young - and so the majority of the audience for the concert were children and teenagers - mostly girls. Many had no doubt excitedly looked forward to seeing their idol for months in advance. Because of the logistics of organising a concert like this, some fans would have received their tickets as Christmas or birthday presents as long ago as last year..

At the end of the concert, children and teenagers began to gather in the foyer, no doubt in a state of some euthoria, having at long last seen their idol perform. In some cases parents (or grandparents, older sisters, brothers or other relatives) had accompanied them to the concert, but in other cases the parents had stayed away and were now arriving to collect them and take them home. And so the foyer was crowded with people of all ages.

Then, at 10.30 pm, a suicide bomber detonated a device. Twenty two died. Nine of the twenty two were aged between fourteen and nineteen, and eight of those were girls. The youngest victim of all was just eight years old. Many of those twenty two were accompanied by family members who lived, but they had witnessed the devastation. Afterwards the stories of community support, the selfless actions of local people, and the professionalism of the emergency services.were all in stark contrast to the story of the bomber.

I'm not a poet. I've written very little poetry, and so I make absolutely no claims at all for this piece which combines free verse and rhyming verse. But it did seem the best way to try to commemorate this event.

This poem therefore is my attempt to express as best I can, some thoughts and feelings after Manchester.

Children, broadly smiling, fantasising,

sparkling eyed and idolising,

and crowds of happy adolescents

with vital vibrant effervescence,

and sons and daughters, sisters, brothers,

childhood friends and teenage lovers -

all had made their fateful way

to the concert hall that day in May.

And mothers and fathers with delight

also came that way that night

at the concert's culmination,

to savour their childrens' high elation

and share the mood of celebration.

The music finished, and the evening done,

the parents, the young, and the very young

all together. In unison.

All together - except for one .....

The one who chose to end the fun.

In an instant.

A bloody blast, a moment's silence - and then the screams

to herald a lifetime's nightmare, and end the familys' dreams,

as mothers cried for their children - and children for their mums,

and brothers for their sisters, and fathers for their sons.

Families torn asunder, bloodied, broken, cut to pieces

a loved one's life now ebbs and ceases.

In an instant.

But just one instant later.

Though families had been broken, the people came together,

forged by bonds of unity more durable than ever.

Police and paramedics, and the people from the street,

came to here from far and near to do their best to treat

the wounds of utter strangers ..... and simply offer to share

a shoulder on which to cry, to show the people care.

And thus from one vile germ of gross and cruel Insanity

was spawned one thousand shoots of pure and good humanity.

Just one instant later.

Will anything change? For better or for worse?

In our country? In our community? In the peoples' souls?

Our country will stay open

and our community stays close.

Our speech will stay free

and our love will stay dear.

Our lives will go on

and new life will take off.

Nothing changes, as the world continues .....

The children will become teens,

the teens will become parents.

And the parents will become grandparents of children and of teens.

And they'll still all go to concerts.

Nothing changes.

Except .....

Some children will never become teens,

and some teens will never become parents.

And some parents will never again have a reason to live.

Whatever was the point?

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