Volunteer Bobby Sands MP
On this night 25 years ago Vol Robert Sands, a Member of the British Parliament, Commanding Officer of the POWs imprisoned in Long Kesh internment camp and a soldier of the Irish Republican Army (Belfast Brigade) entered the last few hours of his all too short life. Having ceased eating 65 days previously his health had deteriorated to the point where he was now in a coma. Several of his comrades and friends were already refusing food and nine of them would also go on to die.
His family were present at the time, but only two were allowed in his cell at the one time with him. Four prison warders were also in attendance.
When he died in the early hours some of the most intense rioting seen to date on Britain's streets was seen on the streets of "Northern Ireland."
THE RHYTHM OF TIME
Theres an inner thing in every man,
Do you know this thing my friend?
It has withstood the blows of a million years,
And will do so to the end.
It was born when time did not exist,
And it grew up out of life,
It cut down evils strangling vines,
Like a slashing searing knife.
It lit fires when fires were not,
And burnt the mind of man,
Tempering leadened hearts to steel,
From the time that time began.
It wept by the waters of Babylon,
And when all men were a loss,
It screeched in writhing agony,
And it hung bleeding from the Cross.
It died in Rome by lion and sword,
And in defiant cruel array,
When the deathly word was Spartacus,
Along the Appian Way.
It marched with Wat the Tylers poor,
And frightened lord and king,
And it was emblazoned in their deathly stare,
As eer a living thing.
It smiled in holy innocence,
Before conquistadors of old,
So meek and tame and unaware,
Of the deathly power of gold.
It burst forth through pitiful Paris streets,
And stormed the old Bastille,
And marched upon the serpents head,
And crushed it neath its heel.
It died in blood on Buffalo Plains,
And starved by moons of rain,
Its heart was buried in Wounded Knee,
But it will come to rise again.
It screamed aloud by Kerry lakes,
As it was knelt upon the ground,
And it died in great defiance,
As they coldly shot it down.
It is found in every light of hope,
It knows no bounds nor space,
It has risen in red and black and white,
It is there in every race.
It lies in the hearts of heroes dead,
It screams in tyrants eyes,
It has reached the peak of mountains high,
It comes seating cross the skies.
It lights the dark of this prison cell,
It thunders forth its might,
It is the undauntable thought, my friend,
That thought that says Im right!
RIP Comrade. Never Forgotten!
