We all remember the scene,
Luke Skywalker, chased by Tie-fighters,
and that history making, chance in a million
shot on the Death Star.

Cheering as children,
we gave no thought to the thousands of workers on the planet,
to the parents who had lost children,
children who had lost parents.

Doris in the Kitchen, making soup for the Storm-Troopers,
Who will never make it home to feed her Cats.
Shane in design and development,
who slowly worked his way up from
the kerfuffle kitchen,
the aching pain lounge,
the ooh that hurts pub,
to the ouch, that’s got to Hurt continent,
and on to the Death Star.

Gary and Tom who were just working there
during the holidays to pay their way through college.
Like Amazon, but with higher penalties, and a longer commute.
All of the cooks in the kitchen,
the sanitary workers,
the researchers and developers.
Paul in stationary, who was waiting
for a new delivery of paper-clips
and Moth repellent.
Dark Lords of the Sith do not look nearly as menacing,
after firing up a light-saber
to be mobbed by a swarm of insects.

All of the barmen, the storm-troopers who lived
for Tuesday night karaoke,
the health and safety workers who would never finish
the bannisters and safety rails.
The Emperor’s fine selection of coats,
all gone, so that an orphan boy
who never cried for the family who raised him,
but would be sad for the passing of an old man he had only just met,
could show that the force really was with him,
so, we could all cheer when he was saved by Han Solo,
and showed what we all learnt so much later to be true,
putting friendship above financial rewards
is always the right thing to do.