Once upon a time,
when I was young,
they had silvery buttons,
big black boots
and a smile like a lollipop;
and whiskers.
They would bend right down,
‘Can I help you, son?’
(‘Can I help you, son?’ they would say,
once upon a time).
And the bicycles leant
on the sun-brick walls,
and all their time was mine
to grow in,
to lead me into grace.
Now upon a time,
when you are young,
they have silver-lined pockets,
boots in your groin,
and a smile like a rat-trap;
“incidents” fleeced with lies.
And they don’t bend down,
‘Can I help you, son?’
(‘Can I help you, son?’ is never said,
not nowadays).
The Panda cars lurk, proud
in the shadowed wall,
and all your time is their’s, my son -
oh, my son -
to nail you in,
to lead you to the cross.
Will there come a time,
my son, my son,
with your silvery buttons,
big black boots
and your smile like the mercy of God,
that you’ll whisper, ‘Why?’;
that you’ll ask of the law,
‘Did you hate me then, so much?’
(‘I will try to forgive’, will you say,
in the coming time?).
As your dark head stills
in the prisoning walls
and your life is thrown away
for thirty pieces of silver -
plus benefits,
plus pension rights -
I will see in every thorn tree
a blue man hanging....
(March,
1985)
Note: Promotion in the Police Force today is to be
largely dependent on the number of successful prosecutions; children are much
easier to hit for their youthful peccadilloes than the serious criminals and
are therefore increasingly becoming “fair game” for the police. Concern has been widely expressed that
unwarranted police persecution seems all too likely to turn youths into
criminals.
