The Man of Maghaberry

You were ripped from your bed and taken away,

Thrown into an police car and trucked to Maghaberry,

When you arrived you were dragged by the cuff,

Your wrists began to bleed but you stayed tough,

With a punch in the gut and a bayonet to the leg,

“Leave me alone” they're praying you’ll beg,

What they seem to forget is that in your heart you're a soldier,

By breaking you down they are making you even bolder,

It isn’t just one search it’s three or four,

After each one you are bruised and sore,

It’s not just the beatings that will draw your last ounce,

When they get a chance that's when they'll pounce,

Just when you think your hatred had finally grew,

You are down and beaten all black and blue,

Your only goal is to make it through without dying,

'Cause the bastards who run Maghaberry won't be crying,

You're thrown back into your cell like a stray mutt,

Your temple to be met with an armalite's butt,

The blood begins to flow down your blue and battered face,

You let each drop hit the ground without any disgrace,

The door closes shut and the lights go out,

The guard lets out just one more shout,

“You'll break soon you ugly Fenian cunt!”,

You stand up and look at the door as you let out a grunt,

When the guard goes away you drop to your knees,

You begin to cry asking “Please God, Please...”,

You hope God will answer your prayer the very next day,

In the morning you find out they're futile to your dismay,

You're dragged by your arms to a room with a chair,

A man dressed in a tan uniform gives you a glare,

Your legs bound and strapped to the floor,

Your hands strapped to the table too uncomfortable to ignore,

The door closes shut and there isn't a sound,

The uniformed soldier's boots begin to click around,

You're questioned for hours each time meeting a fist,

Until finally the room is covered in a bloody mist,

You're dragged back to your cell with a toothless grin,

The beating of man and the torturing of sin,

The guard so confused turned around and shook his head,

“Why do you continue to fight you Fenian scum?” he said,

You begin to stand with broken legs as he stares in awe,

“I love my country” you mutter through a broken jaw,

The guard begins to laugh and spits in your face,

“You'll never leave Maghaberry, you'll never leave this place!”

Twelve hours later you're led in dark,

The morning dew lays silent and so does the lark,

You're bound once more and led to a wooden pole,

You're not given last rites and now forever a restless soul,

You take one last deep breath as they pin a target over your heart,

You hear the bolts clack and the order to start,

The sound makes you cringe but still stand tall,

The order of “Ready” is given to all,

The hesitant soldiers are told to “Aim”,

Now remembering those who have suffered the same,

You let out a yell as you know your life is to expire,

When the final order is given to “Fire”,

You fought a battle you knew you were going to lose,

Made those hard decisions that everyone must choose,

You're a legend to all and a martyr to some,

Your name to be sung with the beat to the battle drum,

You knew true strength while these men will never,

Your fightin' Irish spirit will live on forever.


* This poem is written in respect to those who died in the name of freedom for Ireland and her peoples