the graveyard to-day, as I often do. It's a place
where over the last thirty odd years myself and some
of my friends have gone when we felt down or at a
loss. It is also one of the few places that we could
walk and talk about our past present and futures in
don't know why, but today I counted the graves in
the "Republican Plot". There are twenty-two
graves. I know volunteers in eighteen of the twenty-two
graves. A lot of them have had their Headstones smashed.
This put me to thinking of the many debates and conversations
I had with some of those friends, now gone. I won't
try to go into details regarding the content, and
I certainly wouldn't be presumptuous to guess what
they would be thinking if alive to-day. But, every
single one of them, without exception, when they sacrificed
their lives, believed in the Armed Struggle, that
the Brits had no right to be here, and had no place
in governing any part of Ireland.
I wonder, if there is a Heaven, and the boys and girls
are looking down, watching people they believed in
and trusted, who told them the only time we would
be talking to the Brits would be when they were making
arrangements to leave our country, who are not only
talking to them, but who have legitimised their right
to be here, addressing them on a first name basis
and sipping cups of tea obviously enjoying their company.
I look towards the shattered pieces of the graves
of my friends my heart sinks in the realisation that
not only have these memorial stones been smashed,
but so too have the ideals for which these volunteers
laid down their lives to achieve.
a whole new meaning to the words "Rest in Peace".
Index: Current Articles + Latest News and Views + Book Reviews +
Letters + Archives