Your Antagonist, My Champion
By, Hugh A Tague
My freedom fighter is your insurgent. Your defender
of the realm is the hand of my oppression.
The fallen I hold in martyrdom you bid a hasty good riddance.
For centuries, you dangle the forbidden fruit of freedom
just from my reach, like a cat with a mouse, controlling my fate.
Your self proclaimed “lords”: keepers of the wealth, held me
a slave within their factory walls. When the blight
turned the fields black, they were quite content to
see my children starve while they filled their fat
bellies and wallets with my corn.
When finally the heroes of Erie, Pearce, Connolly, Collins,
de Valera the Countess, and more than three thousand
other Irish men and woman tried to hold you to your promise,
you showed your true intent. With a callous indifference,
you annihilated the innocent and “rebel” alike.
Despite your dominant aggressions, I looked to you for compassion
and empathy, but again you refused to recognize that opportunity.
Still you continued the slaughter, staining Kilmainham’s soil
with Irish crimson.
I am Erie, all who stand for me under the sword of light; living, dead or
yet to be born are, and forever shall be, my Heroes.
You are the crown that lies
to the north. All who stand against my republic
and the freedom of my people, are and shall forever be,
Unable to share the earth beneath our feet,
lifetimes filled with disdain,
occupied by prejudice and hate,
peace and love lost,
time simply falls to waste.