Lawrence Hall
Dispatches for the Colonial Office
The List is Death
There is said to be a list – but whose?
Who wrote it? Where is it? Where has it been?
On what teakwood desk does it now repose
Around which names and lives are negotiated
The matter is not that names are being removed
But that your name might be written in
Because your attitude has been noticed
The hand that once shook yours signs away your life
Someone pencils your name upon The List
That’s your loyalty reward (you won’t be missed)
Thoughts ‘n’ prayers as in Two Corinthians
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