My last blog described writing about victims and survivors in my novel The Silence Between Breaths which examines a terrorist attack and its impact on people caught up in it. Nineteen days after posting that blog came the brutal attack on Manchester, where I live. The response of people to that violence, the shared humanity and compassion and resilience have been humbling – and also made me so proud. This poem, written sometime ago, says something of what I feel about my adopted city.

 

Manchester

we come from

Carlow Quetta Nanchang Port of Spain

from Peterloo showering bread and roses

all hard knocks and wild ambition

sharp sweet city of mongrels

threaded by cotton

grounded with attitude

arms wide open

singing the sky

Manchester

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