A Minute’s Silence

How long did a minute feel when panic had set in?
Arms pinned to your side.
Body contorted into unrecognisable shapes
by the pressure of those around you.
Brain realising there is no escape.

How long did a minute feel, your life’s breath seeping out of you?
Ribcage squeezed hard.
Then harder still.
Your only noise a choking rasp in a desperate cry for help.

How long did a minute feel as you slipped out in and out of consciousness?
Did you think of family and friends?
Did you think – how can I die at a football match?

How did it feel to be told that you were all drunk?
How did it feel to be vilified by the press and their version of “the truth”?
How did it feel to be patronised and despised by politicians as they stood at your graveside?

These questions will remain unanswered.
The minute for the 96 is now silent.
Eternally.

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Posted October 11, 2010 by Editor in category "Football Poetry

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