Untitled [Lockerbie from the Ground] by Sarah Sproat

It was a cold and dark night, my mother sent me to bed.
I looked out of the window at the quiet streets ahead.
The sky lit up like fireworks, much to my childish delight.
I didn't know that 270 people would die that night
The house shook and jumped as if it was alive
My dad called for me, told me to get outside
My mum and my baby sister were already out there
All we could do was stand on the pavement and stare
The sky blazed with fiery colours
The smell of oil and fear assaulted our noses
Had the petrol station exploded?
We shivered in the crisp cold air
So many people gathered all scared
I clung to my mum, not understanding at all
Fireworks usually held us all enthralled
We went back inside to the kitchen
My parents, my sister and my granny
It didn't take long for the news to come in
A plane had fallen out of the sky

We watched the grey smoke from the wreck
As it spiralled into the air
The yonder hilltop where the plane had come to rest
A long long way from here
Bodies scattered over our pastures
Their souls escaping to eternal bliss
But all we could think and all we could say was
"Who is to blame for this?"
That night has haunted us forever
The events as they unfolded
The scars they have left on our town
Have never healed.