Set in 1969 as Carson was entering his twenties, this piece exemplifies how those who grew up during the Troubles must have felt their lives punctuated with green or orange stamps, identities lost to the dehumanising effect of ethno-national segregation and tribalism “Why can’t I escape? Every move is punctuated.” The final line, “My name? Where am I coming from? Where am I going? A fusillade of question-marks,” rounds off the confused mood of the poem, compelling the reader to grapple with the bigger questions. Through “raining exclamation marks” and ellipsis to suggest sprays of bullets, Carson highlights how violence can rip through every inch of one’s reality when communication collapses emphasising the artistic struggle to find language which can bring a level of explanation to this chaos. The piece likens punctuation to shrapnel in a bomb explosion implying an intrinsic link between violence and a failure of language.

Ciaran Carson’s Confetti is perhaps the best example of this endeavour. Language was used by writers to encapsulate the chaos of the Troubles and create literary illustrations that would educate those for whom the Troubles would one day be the subject of history lessons and not a part of life. No better example is there of language’s status as an art form a generation of writers utilised it to make sense of violence and process the adversity and trauma which haunted the period whilst many leaders deftly employed language as a tool for peace. The Northern Irish Troubles are no exception. Revolutions, civil wars, and cross-border conflicts have been started with the wrong words, ended with the right, and artists have produced myriads of literature throughout the centuries which inject colour into days past.

The power of language surpasses these in its ability to reap peace, sow war, and, in literary form, give voice to those who might otherwise be anonymous to history. The deadliest weapon utilised in war is not the cannon, gun, or bomb.

Peace through power kane