Our Skies Are Red With Blood Poem by Shirley Harrison

Never had I witnessed with my own eyes
real live war until now
a forty-inch flat screen television
makes it hard to ignore

I've been taught all about it in the classroom
my own parents were born after the bunkers
kept their dear mum's alive

and underground tube stations?
once long ago filled with people like you and I
hiding from the bombs
protected by the bricks that keep up each tunnel
deep under the London streets

to be honest it's always given me a sense of awe
a sense of pride riding the tube, even today
an everlasting awe of courage
in the eerie winds that blow so far underground

I confess that war history
has always left me feeling disheartened
the darkness of a warmonger
hard to believe it's happening in our world today
even harder to believe all of the innocent people
dying for nothing

if it gets any closer
I'll not get to hide on a platform of the underground
I'll just have to hope it doesn't get that far
best I can do is hide under an olive tree
ever hoping maybe I'll be protected by its branches?

so…

I'll keep looking up at the sky
hoping with all my heart it remains bright blue

because sometimes very sadly
our skies are red with blood.