Tatters and the naked man beneath
and the grime of the forsaken past
and the keepsake purity of what was future,
more anger than a failure can maintain,
a rigid pride where wisdom would be silent.
This man has seen harsh seasons
yet none so bitter as his shade.
You who find a challenge in each sound,
notice the scars and the shuddering reflex,
consider how he came by his compassion
and wonder that
his touch burns like a brand-iron.
There was a time he moved as an animal
and his will sufficient for his reach.
There was a once he did not feel his skin crawl
at the sight of a suspended moment
or gasp to hear his world
crumble beneath thundering centuries
and hush.
The knowledge of his world as it fell,
it cracked across his mind and who he was.
This man remembers an instant out of time
when he shared
God.