Life on the Run
Danny C. of the IRA, at a pub in Ennis (2009)

When your life is collapsing
on all fronts, there are two things
you can do: stay put or leave.
One is only marginally better
than the other, since no matter
where you run, they’ll find you.

I belong to the stay-put faction,
finding a simple change of address
works better than reinforced steel doors,
better than expensive firearms.
A few fake IDs and prepaid phones
meshes well with favours owed;

but, you know, you can never trust them,
even ‘friends’ will sell you out in a flash
for fear or favour. Even lads from the county
succumb to dark and unknown pressures.
It is usually better to virtually disappear,
avoid all meetings, drop off the radar,

until you get a sense of the situation,
figure out how serious they really are.
Then you start to move against them.
Your second ID, the greatest risk,
is the key to all the other IDs, the stash
of cash in various bank deposit boxes

and your ticket out. Avoid all airports
and do ferry crossings, not with hitchhikers,
but with a rented single mother and child.
She’ll do anything, poor cow, for 500 quid
plus expenses, one day’s work, and even wonders
why you don’t want to sleep with her.

That would be exploitative, unkind: easy enough,
aye, but contrary to the principles of revolution.
And, of course, there’d be the child to think of.

Hi Bren

What I like about this is the unemotional, non-judgemental style - apart from the suggestion of integrity in the last strophe we're not encouraged to think of Danny as either a hero or a terrorist. The situation just is what it is. I'm not keen on the title though which feels a bit tabloidish and cliché. I think it needs something a bit more subtle. The term poor cow had some shock value for me but thinking about it it's probably realistic.

Is Danny C a real person?

Amanda  

Good point about the title, although 'on the run' was the term used by the people themselves when their cover got blown. This seems to have happened quite frequently in the early years owing to a number of factors: putting up several people together in the same house or flat, broad Irish accents, erratic hours, nosy neighbours, loose talk in the pubs back home picked up and passed on to the security services; but less so in the late 80s and early 90s which is the period Danny was talking about. Danny C. is real enough although his name is not Danny and I didn't meet him in Ennis. There's a few more like him still knocking around, fitfully employed, not very good at relationships, getting on in years. There's no PTSD programme for ex-Volunteers ...