Poem Hunter
The Rhythm Of Time
BS Bobby Sands ( / )

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 leandened 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 with 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! '

BOBBY SANDS was twenty seven years old when he died on the sixty sixth day of hunger-strike in the H-Block prison hospital, Long Kesh, on the 5th May 1981. The young IRA Volunteer who had spent almost the last nine years of his short life in prison as a result of his Irish republican activities was, by the time of his death, world-famous having been elected to the british parliament and having withstood pressures, political and moral (including an emissary from Pope John Paul II) , for him to abandon his fast which was aimed at countering a criminalisation policy by the british government. His name became a household word in Ireland, and his sacrifice (as did that of those who followed him) overturned british propaganda on Ireland and had a real effect in advancing the cause of Irish freedom.

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Comments (4)

Make no mistake Surely, the sound of silence is deafening.
Powerful poem by a hero who 'died in great defiance'
On reading Rhythm of Time by Bobby Sands Self righteous be the order short The base camp days away The reason without purpose Grand hubris belayed, The fight that says You'll be destroyed, But cur who will not try The light that falls On cold pale cheeks Who looks and walks away From stoney failed offerings Whom turned from lighted day, The heart that says It is but fear, I rise to die today, To face my foe And in that fight Expose a darkness by, Victory at ended day Or eternal cursed night, To stand and fall Accepting plight Surrendering to the cause, To breathe and sigh That last but once To hope and never know, Whether blood be lost Or by heated sacrifice Ignition of an epoch new, Or wasted as in countless trife The cause all proved untrue, But righteous are eternal truths From which the years subside No coin of currency can corrupt Or sad politic divide, No vacancy in that sacred course When right drives hearts engaged To immerse all life and history To cause and days til played And victory be told by those That watched and sniffed the flames And mulled the ruins in cautious day And thought upon cold graves. Danny Draper 16/9/2013
Tiocfaidh Ar La', God save Ireland.