22

A poem to commemorate the Manchester bombing, and all the beautiful lives that were cut short by a meaningless act of hatred.

May 22nd, 2017.

A year since we saw

that terrible scene.

 

When the best night of their lives

became their worst.

The world came crashing down

and the bubble was burst.

Because “it couldn’t happen here”

only works until it does

and everything you thought you knew

is shattered all because

a man armed with darkness

and a backpack full of hate

tried to tear our spirits down

but he would always be too late.

 

And so we held our breath for Olivia

and shed a tear for Saffie Rose.

We had our minute’s silence

and for a moment, the world froze.

 

But we get tattoos

and we sing our songs

and Manchester carries on.

We light our candles

and leave our tributes,

for the 22 are not gone.

22 lives were lost that day,

but their lights will never go out.

For celebrating their love and lives

is what today is all about.

 

We must not be afraid

but it is okay still to cry.

For with every tear

that falls from your eye,

– remember this.

 

We won’t look back in anger

and will not lead with hate.

Manchester is a place of love

and we will honour this date.

Muslim or Christian,

gay or straight,

whether you’re six

or eight-eight.

Whether you were born in Moss Side,

Morocco or Kuwait,

whether you live on a farm

or a council estate,

we are Manchester

and we are great.

 

 

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