For a political writer
It is impossible to overpraise
That which is splendid; even in these days
of darkness, she shone out. Her anger took
her to hell-grim despair, and yet she shook
the mighty with her rage, like magma deep
like magma burning. Those of us asleep
she woke, like speed or coffee in our veins.
created dreams of justice in our brains
the better world, where better people live
who yet are us, instructed. Writers give
us homes to yearn for - they are exiles too
in their own land, because they see it new
estranged. And those great men she made us scorn
just background to an age when she was born.