(Sent to me tonight by my daughter. The Saker)
The Rhythm Of Time
There’s an inner thing in every man,
Do you know this thing my friend?
It has withstood the blows of a million years,
And will do so to the end.
It was born when time did not exist,
And it grew up out of life,
It cut down evil’s strangling vines,
Like a slashing searing knife.
It lit fires when fires were not,
And burnt the mind of man,
Tempering leadened hearts to steel,
From the time that time began.
It wept by the waters of Babylon,
And when all men were a loss,
It screeched in writhing agony,
And it hung bleeding from the Cross.
It died in Rome by lion and sword,
And in defiant cruel array,
When the deathly word was ‘Spartacus’
Along the Appian Way.
It marched with Wat the Tyler’s poor,
And frightened lord and king,
And it was emblazoned in their deathly stare,
As e’er a living thing.
It smiled in holy innocence,
Before conquistadors of old,
So meek and tame and unaware,
Of the deathly power of gold.
It burst forth through pitiful Paris streets,
And stormed the old Bastille,
And marched upon the serpent’s head,
And crushed it ‘neath its heel.
It died in blood on Buffalo Plains,
And starved by moons of rain,
Its heart was buried in Wounded Knee,
But it will come to rise again.
It screamed aloud by Kerry lakes,
As it was knelt upon the ground,
And it died in great defiance,
As they coldly shot it down.
It is found in every light of hope,
It knows no bounds nor space
It has risen in red and black and white,
It is there in every race.
It lies in the hearts of heroes dead,
It screams in tyrants’ eyes,
It has reached the peak of mountains high,
It comes searing ‘cross the skies.
It lights the dark of this prison cell,
It thunders forth its might,
It is ‘the undauntable thought’, my friend,
That thought that says ‘I’m right!’
poem by Bobby Sands (1954-1981)
How poignant and profound!
Sands, symbol of the grassroots power of self-sacrifice, has left a message for the ages.
And how perfect that it was handed off from daughter to dad (Saker) so he could share with the generations such a powerful thought and emotion.
Robert Gerard Sands (Irish: Roibeard Gearóid Ó Seachnasaigh) lived a short but great life. And left us this gift of righteous rebellion against tyranny and oppression.
The power of words…
The Iranian government officially changed the name of the street where the British Embassy is based from Winston Churchill Street to Bobby Sands Street in 1981. In response the British government sealed the entrance to the embassy on Bobby Sands Street and knocked through a wall into Ferdowsi Avenue to create a new entry point.
http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/uk/britain-to-reopen-embassy-in-iran-on-bobby-sands-street-31466117.html
Many thanks for such a daughter and father; and for the Sands of Time–no submarines in the desert for such reason and rhyme.
Many thanks for sharing this poem Saker and many thanks for your daughter !
(PS. meantime, yesterday I wrote a poem with the title “Spartacus” – after this meaningful poem, that poem of mine, sounds odds, true it has a different meaning, it is humorous. So, no bashing from my part, it is a simple coincidence. In the next cafe I’ll post it)
No doubt Sands was a brave man, and he had an eye and ear for the poetic. But remember also that he and his Marxist IRA comrades were guilty of the sectarian murder of hundreds of men, women, children and babies.
Remember in particular Jean McConville, a Catholic mother, abducted and shot dead by the IRA for the ‘crime’ of cradling the head of a young soldier as he lay dying in her street. Sands never wrote a poem for her or her orphaned ten children.
Also recall that the IRA was funded primarily from the USA. Ostensibly by members of the Irish diaspora, but no doubt the CIA had its hand in there too, just as it does today with the various Washington Deep State schemes to keep Europe in a state of confusion, weakness and division.
You are absolutely right in saying that there was evil done on both sides, and there were many good people on both sides too. That is the state of things in most wars. As such, as people who are looking back at history, rather than having to chose a side while in the midst of it, I think the most we can do is look at the principles that guided these people. Bobby Sands was driven by a desire for freedom, for justice, and, in his own way, for an end of the conflicts. He was clearly deeply principled, to an extent that we can all admire, even if we disagree with his side. Jean McConville’s son, by the way, was a republican and an IRA/INLA member, which shows the terrible, divisive nature of the Troubles.
The last sentence of the poem:
” It is ‘the undauntable thought’, my friend,
That thought that says ‘I’m right!’
It reminds me of the Hillary supporter I had coffee with the other day. She agrees that Hillary ran a terrible campaign. She agrees Hillary was not a good candidate but, she still thinks Hillary lost due to “Russian meddling”, and she just “knows she is right” about that. It puzzles me how those who are brainwashed are so convinced of the “rightness” of their beliefs, and how in comparison those who see the truth can have moments of doubt and uncertainty. This is not a reflection on Bobby Sands. I am simply commenting on his statement and the knowledge of being right.
I forgot to add: it’s lovely that your daughter has provided this poem to the blog and that she sees that there is a universal truth out there in the face of overwhelming force and power. Thanks for sharing!
We must not be disheartened by the large number of brainwashed zombies that have to face every day…
I have to say that I agree with your take on the poem’s ending, SG.
Defiance of tyranny and injustice is admirable and even magnificent if it is more Universal in its expression.
To end a fine poem on an egoic note was a bit unfortunate, IMHO. I had that reaction instantly, before reading your interesting posing of a “dead right” fool that just egoically, emotionally, witlessly “knew” she was right.
Sands had to be more right than her, and certainly a better poet. Also he and his movement were not perfect by a long shot, but there, in the courage to struggle for the truth evidenced by this poem, there is nobility, nevertheless.
I think of both sides in the Illiad.Can’t both be right! In fact I believe they were both seriously, tragically wrong, and that that was Homer’s point: To help succeeding generations of humanity learn to do better. If we can get through this generation (next 25 years) the “blind” bard’s work will not have been in vain.
All good stuff. Thanks, Saker daughter!
Anything the IRA ever did in Ireland, or abroad under the watchful eye of MI6, all those killed, pale in commparrison to every single person around the world killed by Brittish Imperialism (doesen’t even f’in compare dude). Bobby was a pawn, used by callous bastards and sacrificed on the alter Colonial Power. The Queen and Royals of England have far more blood on their hands than all the men, women, and children of Ireland, regardless of their religious or political affiliations.
RIP Bobby, ‘Our day will come’
From wikipedia: The 1981 Irish hunger strike started with Sands refusing food on 1 March 1981. Sands decided that other prisoners should join the strike at staggered intervals to maximise publicity, with prisoners steadily deteriorating successively over several months. The hunger strike centred on five demands:
the right not to wear a prison uniform;
the right not to do prison work;
the right of free association with other prisoners, and to organise educational and recreational pursuits;
the right to one visit, one letter, and one parcel per week;
full restoration of remission lost through the protest.
The original pathologist’s report recorded the hunger strikers’ causes of death as “self-imposed starvation”, later amended to simply “starvation” after protests from the dead strikers’ families.
Talks about psyops!
It does sound a bit more, to me, like Yanukovich’s Ukraine, where the Berkut were terrified of bad publicity, than Baghram Airnbase.
The rhythm of time Is powerful thing.
I think that’s a song by somebody.
You can only fool people for so long, despite all the distractions that are flung at you.
It has been said that you only get revolution when people start to get hungry, otherwise they are a complacent mob, lacking any true principles other than greed and selfishness.
I’ve become convinced that is true, there are very few Homo Sapiens. They’ve been taught something called Freedom, although I have no idea what that is actually meant to mean, let alone why it has to be spelt with a capital ‘F’.
Aldous Huxley and George Orwell were straight on.