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Thirteenth September, nineteen seventy four, when a
child was born
Twenty second April, nineteen ninety three, taken away was he
In a moment that day you went Christ’s way
Carried on across till your own life lost
On the street you were tried
On the street’s where you died

When death came & swooped
In the form of a group
One wild slash
All your dreams dashed
Where stops the bus
You left us
On your knees
By the tree
All alone
Without a phone
No medic came
Protocol’s to blame
No one caught
The world distraught
Six futuretives fled
As you lay dead
We’ve alibis
Through teeth they lied
We were at home
In our abode
In the dark
The place now marked
With a simple plaque
Makes an impact

Although days are long we’ll carry on
We take to the fight that the world may be right
Tell us Stephen would you want to get even
Jesus did he win to take away sin
Twenty nine years on we miss you dear son
And with patience we’ll wait at heavens gate

Read more of Rich’s poetry here