With honest voice (in memory of John Hearne)

We knew the day he rode the final sea,

the five with every reason to lament 

his absence, but we knew no plea

could bring his words back, nor his sharp dissent 

from the dark rules that governed our hard past.

He could remember all, and he stood fast 

defending past and future with firm word.

When he began he understood the heart 

of ordinary folk, and his own was stirred 

to urgent language. That was the hard part 

for one who felt, and knew as the years passed 

he could remember all, and he stood fast.

He gave his last man a heroic fate:

Killed by a cutlass while proclaiming peace

hoping to build a free and honest state 

but finding that old rages never cease.

For every second, between first and last,

he could remember all, and he stood fast.

He showed us a new island as our own

familiar place, from the firmest stance 

that gave a way to comprehend the known,

and taught new steps in our slow, painful, dance.

He saw the failures, yet was not downcast:

He could remember all and he stood fast.

He made us passengers on the last ship 

that hauled our parents’ bodies over sea,

showing that he still knew just how to grip

the normal mind, and how to set us free 

to come to terms with our disturbing past.

He could remember all, and he stood fast.

He told me everything he could recall

of changing world, and how he saw things pass,

rise up in hope, and then to darkness fall.

The failure of the rich, and the poor mass,

to weigh the anchor, raise sails on the mast;

he could remember all, and he stood fast.

He saw the sunshine, heard the thunder blast:

He could remember all, and he stood fast