Volunteer Pearse Jordan

Conor Lynam with a poem about an IRA activist who was gunned down, unarmed, by the RUC.

Struggles, soldiers and the unwelcome army with murderous thoughts.
So on an Irish street you were executed by British feet.
The Crown always fears the brave, and they fear them yet
The car, the fired shots, the cover up.
To begin, the volunteer, the brave one that rebelled and was shot down.
Against an occupation, an empire and a death machine that churned up, spat out, and destroyed the vulnerable.
Most sat down when told with shaky legs and bending knees, not you though, you stood up, bold and beautiful resistance.
Unarmed in the street.
Pearse Jordan, a name not a statistic.
Murder by governments knows no bounds, the British will never be forgiven, your sacrifice never forgotten.
The cruelty, the traitors and the ones that carried  their comrade on shoulders of steel.
On a Belfast street, I swear I saw your ghost.
You were unarmed, murdered by the ridiculous tourists, that soon will be sent home, British passports in their pathetic paws.
You were a soldier, and may you rest in peace.
One day I'll shake your hand, maybe a hug and possibly a pint.
Until then chara, pull me up a stool.
I hope these words find you well.
You were a soldier, we will not forget you. 

⏩ Conor Lynam is a Dublin Republican

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