On 15th April 1989 I was working in shop at the Albert Dock. My boyfriend met me after work. We walked numbly through the empty city centre. There were a few people openly crying in the unusually quiet, abandoned streets. When I got home I wrote this. I’ve just shared it with my sons.
A City Stunned to Silence
The city has been stunned to a silence.
And as the police pace the floor,
For an excuse to ease their conscience.
Thousands pace the Anfield ground
And as the old man with his stick,
A supporter from his youth,
Breaks down and cries outside The Arkles
The enquiries break down the events
To reveal already apparent reasons.
God, the injustice of it.
The injustice that the team
With the larger following, should have,
The least tickets,
And the smaller end.
Kids, strapping lads and girls,
I might have stood next to them at Anfield,
Shared in their ecstasy,
When the ball punched the back of the net,
Have had the breath pushed out of them,
By a force,
Let in by a force
Not as a favour
But as a cop out.
Preventing trouble outside the ground
By pushing it in.
And now, as a nation
Of supporters stand shocked,
The issue of ID cards
Stands in parliament.
We wonder what identification
They labelled the supporters with before Saturday
And what identity do they now have
With the mourners
And the numb
And a city stunned to silence?
15th April 1989