Sparks from the central fire – I was lucky to be near enough to feel the blaze these men ignited in the world
● Derek Walcott, or rather his poetry, entered my life when he was twenty and I was seventeen. I had read poems in the English Classics on my parents’ bookshelves earlier in my life. And a great teacher, John Hodge at Queens Royal College in Trinidad, had introduced me outside the set curriculum to the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins which had flared like a torch in my mind. But this was the first time I knew immediately and deep down that great poetry could be written by one of my own West Indians. Somehow, I think it was from the Public Library but it may also have been from the hands of
