You demanded they remember you,
Peacemaker in a bloody green.
And certainly those jewels did belong to the nation,
But north of Bogota it was your world.
Mountains cloaked in jungle
Whispered a conspiracy of forbidden wealth.
You would not share it. Your mind an only child’s.
No compromise. You fought off
Conscience with hired guns, boys
From the district who loved you to death.
A favourite uncle, you slipped wads of pesos
To the cops and your politicos. Serrucho.
The final account showed thousands slaughtered
And your blushing bank... gratified. Not faltering
You arranged the verdict on yourself thus:
Diplomat, local hero, father to orphans.
Copyright © James Stanwardine | Year Posted 2016