In Memory of the Thirty-Nine

Like a jigsaw puzzle,

and after the jigsaw’s travel,

unkeyed figures are thrown aside

in a rendering of reality 

now made incomprehensible;

splintered lives waiting to be rejoined

to families, meaningless in their 

separation.

Humanity is a house

divided ‘gainst itself.

The memories of thirty-nine,

frozen into icy eternity, 

hearts stilled,

blood once livened by soft smiles and secret tells,

now postured with death, and all its horror.

Filled with resolve and strength of purpose,

they pointlessly gambled with the biased dice,

drawn to death by false, and malicious promise.

And from homeland to dreamland, 

this coffin ship, branded,

but without  flag, 

was passed off as a deliverance, of sorts,

finally berthing in a bay landlocked

by cemented English countryside.  

Even though they paid their toll

-so their arrival might be overlooked-

$2,000 is now the price of their return,

discounts offered for ‘ashes only’, 

-tourist class reserved.

Humanity in deed

is a house divided ‘gainst itself.

© Niall OConnor 2020