How brave, how strong he is, they said,
unswayed by sentiment, never scared
to take the hard decisions.
And when I saw the carnage that he left
– careers ended with a word,
communities gutted and left to die –
I too could only marvel how he
steeled himself against such pain.
But as I came to know him, I could see
he has no need to do so.
Each round of cuts, each sacking
leaves no mark on him, except a
little smile of satisfaction,
having trimmed the bottom line.
He feels no pain that’s not his own,
knows no value that is not for him.
He lacks a sense most of us have.
I might feel sorry for him, but
he is fortunate in his deficiency:
others must fight to bend the world
around their disabilities.
His lets him blunder round it unperturbed:
a blind, deaf man, driving his bulldozer
through crowds of screaming people.
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