From the pen of Turlough Ó Maoláin ...

The Chronicles of Bulgaria

502 Kilometres


Just up the road from my wife and me

A fire’s burning constantly

Folks just like us are in the street

No food to eat

Nowhere to sleep

Afraid to stay

Afraid to go

Nothing of their lives to show

But the clothes on their backs

And the shoes on their feet

And countless bloodstains

In the snow

And the glow

From the flames

And the charred remains

Of their homes

And the broken bones

The bullet holes

And frightened souls

The bodies lying in the street

Tears of desperation and defeat

We take them in as neighbours do

We know that this could be us too

From here to Ukraine the kilometres

Add up to a mere five hundred and two



Peace in four languages …

Мир (Bulgarian), Mír (Czech), Peace (English) and Síocháin (Irish).

On a World War One memorial in Ypres, Belgium.


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