Westminster Bridge

Juliana was a quiet girl. they say – with long, dark hair and soft brown eyes.

Her teachers said, they often caught her gazing out the classroom window, - staring at the sky.

She did not care too much for school but did her best to keep in line.

They tried to goad her into learning, - but it was a waste of time.

Juliana said that when she found the husband of her dreams, her life would be just fine.

A husband and a family were all that Juliana wanted, - she was not a girl for modern times.

Why she joined the march that day, - the world will never know.

Perhaps she wanted to create a world once more where children play, and flowers can grow?

But there she stood at fifteen years of age, - an accidental heroine upon a grisly stage.

***

One hundred thousand children made it to the march that day,

Along with just as many who were old and bent and grey.

Another fifty thousand citizens who had somehow found the time to come along,

Swelled the crowd who filled the streets up to a quarter-million strong.

It was a raggle-taggle army which now marched for peaceful change.

But there, among their ranks were hidden, - men who were both evil and deranged.

Upon the bridge, - the riot squads stood in a phalanx fifteen deep, and ready for affray.

No matter what the cost, - there would be no petition handed into parliament that day.

***

The peaceful protest reached the Marriot Hotel. A shot rang out and one girl fell,

While agitators in the crowd threw petrol bombs and turned the peaceful scene into a living hell.

As windows smashed and cars exploded, Glass was flying through the air as children screamed and bled.

And then, the fatal die was cast when one young police commander lost his head.

He ordered an advance. The riot squad broke ranks and charged the panicked crowd.

But old men never yield, and they will never quit the field. They stood there, calm and proud.

Many brittle bones were broken, and their blood flowed down, but yet they held their ground.

The riot squad was forced into retreat, and on the far side of the bridge, We heard a different sound,

The sound of hobnailed boots, as soldiers marched into position, - then they laid the thin white line and set the killing ground.

***

Juliana lay upon the cold wet ground. Her thin white dress was red with blood, - her thin white face was wracked in pain

Around her, stood a circle of her classmates. When the crowd surged in they pushed it back again.

A young man tried to pack the gaping wound. He tied a dressing on her stomach with a bandage made from his own shirt,

He knelt beside her and he tried hard to console the girl, but in his heart, he realised how badly she was hurt.

***

Across the raging street, a ragged bundle shifted as a tramp awakened from a drunken sleep.

Ex-Sergeant Fredricks was a mountain of a man, - as near a bear in human form as you will ever meet.

Perhaps he saw her as he travelled in his dreams, but Nigel knew exactly where she was,

He pushed his way across the street and lifted her with filthy hands and nails like yellow claws.

He marched with her across Westminster bridge without a backward glance, - without a pause.

***

The old men and the children reached the thin white line and paused to take a breath.

The soldiers sighed with premature relief, but the old soldiers in the crowd were not quite finished yet.

They pushed the children back and formed a line of aging warriors and then another and another still until the lines were fifteen deep.

They had sat and quietly endured injustice for too long and now they knew they had a promise they must keep.

The line of veterans all stepped across the line, and as the rifles roared, the line of heroes fell.

Then another line stepped forward. Some were shaking. Some were white with fear. But they had sworn to die, as well.

But not a shot was fired, - as soldiers who were barely past their teens were crying and were retching as their rifles dropped onto the ground.

The officer was screaming at his men, but nothing that he said could rally them around.

***

Then a giant of a man broke through the crowd, and in his bear-like arms, the young girl lay.

The soldiers stood aside to let him pass, and medics came to take the girl away.

The Queen dissolved the parliament that day. Their blood-soaked hands were torn away from power.

No longer would the greedy prosper while the people starved and cowered.

Juliana's life was saved, but all her dreams were blown away.

Do not ask her to be happy for the sacrifice that she was forced to make, that day.

All she ever wanted was a husband and a family that she could call her own.

But a single sniper’s bullet stole her dreams of family and home.

16/03/2019