Cries of Anguish

By Tom Coker

This poem expresses feelings resulting from this horrible tragedy that many family members have felt - the pain of such loss, frustration with the process of identifying and returning bodies, compassion for the people of Lockerbie and for those who were mandated to retrieve bodies and debris in the aftermath, and anger toward those individuals whose decisions either allowed this to happen or hampered the recovery and notification process.

To the Editor:

Please print
these the cries of anguish.

My sons are dead
dead when I awake
dead when I fall asleep
dead during the day
dead at night
dead.

I see my sons flung from the heavens side by side,
colored fluttering hail slamming into
soft Scottish pastures.
I can no longer look into the heavens.

I see my sons in body bags
bones shattered, skulls crushed,
flesh macerated,
unrecognizable, unbearable,
identifiable only by tattoos.

I see soft Scottish pastures pockmarked with holes
my sons mark on the earth.

I see fine young Scotchmen slogging through a grim harvest
soulless bodies
dead dreams.

I see pecuniary pollution
fouled suffering
fouled consolation.

I see my sons sacrificed on an alter of evil
without mercy
without honor
without dignity.

Any you, mr Reagan and mr Schultz, may God let you
see what I see.
And you, mr Plaskett and mr Alpert, may God let you
see what I see.
And you, the murderers of my sons, may God cleanse your souls
and forgive you.