Outrage

 Outrage

The explosion comes

Always without warning

The ear-drum splitting noise

The force of the blast

And the percussive shock-wave

Of shrapnel as it flies in all directions

Screams of terror fill the air

And dust-clouds billow

As if to coat the bloody bodies

And hide them from inspection

 

The crack of concrete

And the crunch of shattered glass

An uneven layer of dusty debris

Deal out death and indiscriminate injury

Damaged bodies and severed limbs

Casualties littered across the street

 

The wail of urgent sirens

Heralds the arrival of police and paramedics

Who crawl across the wreckage

To pull out maimed and mangled bodies

In unseen heroic acts

But who later on are more visible

Standing outside the hospitals

And before the cameras

Giving details of the deceased

And estimate the numbers

 

And yet these official figures

Take on very different meanings

Whether in Beirut, Boston or Baghdad

In London or Afghanistan

Where the value of a Western life

Becomes inflated by the media

And where a Middle Eastern soul

Who was someone’s husband

Mother, father, brother

A lately-living person

Is reduced to just a cipher

Just a nameless victim

And somehow worth a little less

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2020