Walk away Hero

A Prose Poem

For some time now
The old transit van had been illegally parked
ignored by the passing crowd
Though maybe a dog would have inquired
at the faint smell of marzipan

In the Landrover we were bound for Jericho
Safe home behind the garlands of razor wire
Soldier talk. Girls, boobs, legs,football
Sweat and the release of testosterone
It was always the same

The explosion was close, two streets away
Physically rocking the Rover
I looked at Ballard the driver and nodded
We nosed through the retreating crowd
Towards the smoke and falling roof tiles

Shop mannequins lay with the living and dead
Swallowing the bile in my throat
I felt an insane need to laugh
I couldn’t see any children.
Couldn’t handle that

She lay across the kerb on the far side pavement
Perhaps in her thirties or younger
Not plain, not pretty and unconscious
Her dress waist high
I adjusted it to give her a semblance of dignity

I never touched the wound
but a tourniquet was a simple option
I took the scarf from her neck
Tied it with a double loop around her upper arm
used the bayonet to twist and tighten


A dislodged roof tile shattered a few feet away
I sheltered her with my body
We lay together like two daylight lovers
I was nineteen
and growing up
Fast
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*
*

Today you may take a paid tour round the Belfast murals
where the dead martyrs look down from the painted walls
I wonder if that walk away hero is among them.
Even thirty years on
I could easily elevate him personally to the Warriors Valhalla