The Process

Unionists remain suspicious.
Unionists remain skeptical.
Entertainment at The White House
then home for cakes and tea.
The long handshake that 
stares the gun down
coffins grounded and singing
mouths open red in rain
shouldered wounds bleed again
but Stormont stands.

Shirts are crumpled -
ashtrays full as rooms -
ties askew and coffee gone -
words drafted and re-drafted -
individually weighed, every one.

Silence in The Province
as a generation draw-in and
hold
hold
their collective breath ...
pray for Peace across the land
and beads are told 
for goodwill, good hands.

Outside in the rain
the pressmen 
and the cameras stand 
clustered to acclaim 
the long handclasp that augurs
the beginning of 
Endgame.

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