Her strongest suit was grasping the essential.
She’d lay the facts out with a sort of brute
Display of logic, taut and consequential.
And if you did not like it, you were free
To figure out a way to disagree
But sometimes you would find your dreams were haunted
By her conclusions, proven but unwanted.
Diplomacy is not the highest art.
It leaves the mind bedazzled but unsure
Exactly what was in the speaker’s heart.
Was it pure gold or was it just manure?
She told the truth she saw, from where she stood,
Believing that its power was for the good,
And while it sometimes meant she lost a friend
She lived for real, not having to pretend.