(In memory of the late Edward Seaga)
You may have loved him, or resented him;
Revered him, or else, tossed at him proverbial stones.
He was one who made his mark upon this island he called home!
He was no angel; that’s a given
Nor was he a fiend.
He just seemed zealous, in his quest, to fulfil his role as a human being.
He learnt the language of the drum; the heartbeat of the common man.
He strove to find the hopes and dreams of those who’d sing
And dance along.
He too dropped tears at dissonance.
But, always, in his mind
He knew his purpose, in this phase, was to uplift humankind.
The man was not a shadow.
He dared to castigate
Anyone he ever thought had acted out of place.
Dry humour, at times, tinged his tongue.
And, with his knack for the numerical
Five, Seven, and Eleven
Became, for him, quite special!
Yes! Some will wash his name with praises.
Others will do otherwise.
Even so, he made his footprints upon this landscape, overtime.
Now, the long, long, day is over for one who fashioned dreams.
The bell, without its flagrant toll, observes what is serene.
The marching bands pay homage as impassioned voices sing
Varied tributes to a thinker, who also sought to build!
His timing was impeccable.
‘May 28’; his first, sharp cry!
‘May 28’, at eighty-nine, the big sleep, it stopped by.
Edward Phillip George Seaga, with neither ‘candle’ nor, ‘Sankey’ to hold
Has ‘found his way back home’ to freedom, upon the enlightening plane of souls!
- Erica Brown Marriott