Napalm death
It’s 1972
She runs down the road
Her naked body
Casts a shadow
In Sunday supplements
Not her Sunday best
The times
National geographic
Tabloids
Broadsheets
T.V screens
Behind her napalm death
Burning in smoking colour
Lighting up her village
Her picture cast across the globe
In black and white
A young girl less than ten
Fear written across her face
Flaming clothes torn off
Running with her brother
With her friends
A picture referred to as iconic
Standing proud in all it seeks to confer
Propound and confound
To bring gravitas and authenticity
To a hungry and carnal world
Ready, demanding to feed on the very best
That is exotic
Considered to be news
Brought into people’s living rooms
In regular reports
A continuing stream
So much so that nobody is any longer disturbed
Shaken or stirred
Now anesthetised
Disenchanted
And distracted by the price of petrol and of beer
How many green shield stamps will I get?
How much will it cost?
To fill my avenger, Hillman imp or Cortina
What is the cost of life on the six o’clock news?
Today the burns still mark her back
Testament to her past
But in her mind
In her heart forgiveness stays
Very much alive
Remarkably her life has changed
And yet for some
Napalm death remains
Sticking to them
Sticking to me
Sticking to you
Sticking like glue
raypool
Sat 19th Dec 2015 22:39
A very fine rendition of the human condition Martin. I recall that photograph, full of frozen motion and horror.
Unfortunately, there is a curiosity in the nature of humans that says - thank God it was not me. I think that is the gut reaction - then to try to civilize the reaction . That is the true horror as I see it. More than that I can't honestly say.
Ray