…And the sacred hearts are turning in their mass grave.

The destruction of memory is close at hand

When even hallowed ground is up for sale

And will do more damage than any falling bomb could muster.

The image of splintered charring wood, blackened will be the only thing saved

As The Economy, greed, meanness and the rest of their merry band

Try to call Time on the Bombed Out Church without fail;

Carrying out the gluttony of savings from another city in all its finery and bluster.

The victims are not just those that that passed on that day

But all who will not have the image to remember

As The Economy rides rough shod over any say

Of what happens when you let memorials turn to charcoal ember

Let not Time stand still but be at peace

And let talk of selling St. Luke’s, cease.

Ian D. Hall