Simon Bolívar

His battles are best not told
in a poem. We’ve grown out
of Homer. Like Agamemnon
he sent men to their deaths.

At the expense of blood
he scoured away the last conquistadors,
herders of slave-miners, pilferers
of Inca gold.

But he did better: a refusal
fit for modern epic. Called Liberator,
welcomed in Lima, Bogotá, Caracas
with flowers and songs, he was offered
(for the taking) that jackpot prize
the ravenous eyes of power-men covet:

Dictator. He reflected,
and refused. Giving
the following reason:

You cannot make a just society
with instruments of repression.
It must be done by talking, voting,
thinking: the long hard way.
However much is left undone
when we are old, we must bequeath.

Let us begin.