[for Trevor, 17.9.1947 – 11.12.2012]

I am sixty-five now too and
see a different landscape

though understand well the
relentless grey and cloud.

We did discuss further
darknesses, you illuminating

there and then with
lessons from history

and the depths of your
knowing, those roots in

experience and a prodigious
reading to inform others.

Today you’d make searing
jokes about Machiavellian

truths, then draw incisions
across these lies to expose a

lineage of treachery. Your
line speaks to the despair

of it all, how hard it is to
repair when no one listens

or hears. How in such wit and
wisdom there can be doubt

speaks to now when there
will be yet more ignoring.

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