This poem was written as for the PREDA Fundraiser for Fr. Shay Cullen in Open Heart House in Dublin back in 2011.
Everybody desires freedom
Of culture, faith and their land
And blood is spilled where some have willed
That forced on others be what they’ve planned
And in that fight for freedom
As by them it is seen
Others freedom to exist is ignored
Crushed by another’s dream.
But as Connolly said, that’s just for banners
The emblems change, tyranny the same
The fight to be free may as well not be
If its only for freedom in name.
For the freedom for poverty is forgotten
The fight for folk is to merely exist
And flags fluttering may give a sense of pride
But the point of freedom is missed.
And poverty drives crime which thrives
Among others who see no other way to succeed
Some sell sex on the street to make ends meet
And pimps manage them out of greed.
And these people we forget, have souls hopes and dreams
Shattered by the men they supply
With the sex they crave and pay for
With each one the prostitutes souls die.
And, though lesser known than in Thailand
Some of those selling are very young
Used and abused, dignity refused
The ones below life’s’ bottom rung.
And they, mere children deserve freedom:
More than any flag, faith or notion can give
Sex for them aught to be something to giggle about innocently with friends
Not a fact of life they daily have to live.