no cause did she leave un-espoused

underdogs were her stock in trade

though slender, she was a freedom fighter

she was a brave and comely maid

 

we got together in mozambique

in those days that was the place

tending the wounds of a beggar

hers was a fine and open face

 

critics might deem her reckless

I flew out knowing she would die

she stood to wave, then turned

it was all I could do not to cry

 

she was taking on a continent

driven by some loving power

we went back earlier this year

to erect her simple sandstone tower

 

her hospital was little but ruins

burned down by rebels at night

her patients scattered to the wind

ending that Maid of Orleans fight

 

it is easy to feel bleak despair

evil surmounting all her good

yet the ardent seeds she sowed

may yet grow into a wood

 

we met a man who'd known her

a future leader in the making

her promised to remember her

said his heart was still aching

 

every day I can't but shudder at

cold hedonism, greed and vice

why did Vera's beat with fire

while other hearts pump out ice?