Saving our sons by Roy McFarlane
Blacks, Asians, Whites we all live in the same community, why do we have to kill one another…I lost my son, step forward if you want to lose your son…” Tariq Jahan, father of Haroon Jahan killed in the Birmingham riots. August 2011
A man’s hands are bloodied
from the caesarean which has ripped open
the belly of our society pregnant with the malaise
of injustice, poverty and hopelessness.
A father desperately tries to save the life of his son
and others brutally mowed down on a bloody street.
He’s trying like a midwife
to keep them alive
but the wound is too wide
that has torn the fabric of our city.
He’s trying to save them in the midst of rioting,
the chaos and destruction,
dark abyss of madness
born and bred in these times.
Moments later his own flesh and blood
lies dying in the cradle of his arms.
His hands, his face, sticky with warm blood
and these austere times have birthed
the ugliest scenes we’ve ever seen.
But the night has not finished
for there’s a placenta
of vengeance and violence
slowly swelling inside, poisoning
the blood that flows through young minds.
Hours later, the father who has lost his son
returns back to the scene of travailing
to bury the growing placenta with
outstretched hands pleading to a crowd
for the insanity to stop
and like a mother in labour
he cries with the re-birth of hope and charity
that will hopefully save our sons.
Roy McFarlane ©