Belfast 1972

Naga-uta

Sat on the grass. 
Babies crying – tired and hot. 
Harassed, worn faces. 
Smoking cigarettes non-stop. 
Army won’t move out, 
therefore people have no homes. 
Came home and sunbathed.
Got my arms and back roasted. 
Gunmen opened fire, 
there’s wild shooting going on.
No one hurt, thank God.  
Four times I’ve turned the lights out.
Same weather for tomorrow.

(From a 17-year-old Belfast girl’s diary, July 1972)