The Shame of Ireland

The Shame of Ireland

Gardai Protect a Garda Informer Rapist/Drug Mule/Paedophile recruited by The Dept of Justice Ireland from a Spanish Prison-2000

Too Soft

 
 
Driving away from my Meeting with two consultants
 
The words "Too Soft" Echo in my head
 
They had used the words lightly and did not mean any harm
 
They were innocent to the emotion two simple words stirred
 
Heavy Traffic
 
Road Works
 
Shoppers stepping out n front
 
Slowing down to allow them pass
 
Road rage coming from behind
 
At last I park
 
I close the front door
 
"Too Soft"  simple words screaming in my head
 
The tears flow down
 
I do not sob
 
Silent tears
 
No one to see
 
But if they do,
 
What the heck!
 
"Have you forgotten Garda Geraldine what you did to me
 
When you sat across from me dressed in plain clothes?
 
Plain clothes to hide the fact you were an officer and not a detective
 
A dectective is what you introduced yourself to be
 
Deirdre sat opposite too
 
A shadow of the officer I had met several times before
Madam Geraldine looked at me as if I were beyond human worth
 
Instantly she began her persecution
 
"Are you sure you want to go through with this"
 
"Are you sure you this hanging over you
 
For the next few years?
 
Don't you want to leave it and move on with your life?
 
SAY IT, SAY IT, SAY IT.
 
You think this is bad
Wait until the defence gets you into Court
 
This is nothing to what they will put you through"
 
I looked across at Deirdre
 
Head bent
Limp like figure with no mind
 
I found my voice
 
Deirdre did not make me say those words
 
She did not treat me like this
 
Madam spoke
 
"Deirdre did it wrong
 
Deirdre is too soft"
 
The limp figure spoke without lifting her head
 
"Yes I am too soft"
 
Madam continued with venom accelerated
by the limp one's confession
 
"Say it Say It,#
 
NO THAT'S NOT THE RIGHT WORD
 
SAY IT, SAY IT"
 
I said all the words MADAM demanded to hear
 
The heartless persecutor smirked with ease.
 
Battered and Broken I collapsed into sobs
 
Burning flowing tears
 
Piercing Pain within my being.
 
I signed the paper the persecutor shoved at me.
 
In a pathetic state I whispered "sorry" to the Madam
 
for taking so long in saying the words
She demanded to hear
 
She walked away
 
Not a word of reply
 
"I will be in touch the limp figure said"
 
Off I went into the night
 
The woman I was, no longer alive
Super was sent off on a mission
A Medal to gain.
A phone call
Another Station
Michael the name of an Archangel the Protector against Evil.
He listened
Then with a harshness I readily recognised he uttered:
Sometimes women like to tell their story to officers
Just to make themselves feel better.
Oh go to hell Michael as I say a prayer of contrition to
Archangel Michael for you sharing his name.

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