Poem for Godfrey
We
thought that Godfrey’d gone away
Although
we’d begged him please to stay
“There’s
so much work, death’s not your fate
Without your help the load’s
too great!”
How
will we print the papers and leaflets?
How
will we know the place to meet?
Who
will support us when we’re down?
Who’ll make sure we’ve got
what we need?
Who
will correct us when we’re in a muddle?
Who
will make sure we study and read?
Who
will be ready with a smile and a joke?
How can the Party from now
on proceed?
But
Godfrey hasn’t lived and fought in vain.
He’s
transferred himself into the fabric of being
Of
every comrade he knew and inspired
And he lives on inside us
without our seeing.
He’ll
always be there to give us guidance,
To
spur us on to work a bit harder
To
gently tease us out of despondence
To share his love, his
wisdom, his laughter.
We
will hear his voice from deep inside
If
ever we think there is time to skive
If
we think we can’t follow his selfless devotion
If picking up his baton
seems an impossible notion,
If
we run from our duty to serve the working class
And
stop striving to build competent leadership
If
we stray away from revolution’s path
In
search of cheap popularity and hero worship
Be
sure he will notice and he will care
And
his voice will follow us everywhere:
“I
may be gone but I’m not forgotten;
And if you don’t pull your
weight, I’ll bother you rotten”.