1920 Bloody Sunday

by Aaron Connolly

In the year of 1920, a day of sorrow and dread,
Bloody Sunday’s tale, forever etched in red.
In Ireland’s land, where tensions ran high,
A tragic event that made many cries.

On that fateful day, in Dublin’s streets,
A peaceful gathering, where hope and unity meets.
But the British forces, with hearts so cold,
Unleashed violence, a story yet untold.

In Croke Park’s grounds, where dreams took flight,
Gunshots echoed, shattering the night.
Innocent lives lost, a nation’s heart torn,
As the world watched in disbelief and mourned.

Families shattered, futures cut short,
The pain and anguish, a lasting retort.
Yet through the darkness, resilience did rise,
A call for justice, reaching the skies.

Bloody Sunday, a scar on history’s page,
A reminder of the power of rage.
May we learn from the past, and strive for peace,
So such tragedies forever cease.

Written as part of Poetry as Commemoration workshops for Transition Years led by Terry McDonagh and Mary Melvin Geoghegan in Castlerea Community School, Roscommon, in  October 2023.