I knew a man;

he stood like a mountain

his voice was like thunder

the plates of the continents

trembled at his will.

A will whose roots lay

deep beneath mountains—

too deep for himself

or anyone else

to plumb.

I knew a man;

he was my senior;

he hurt me gravely,

and when at last—

feeling the such pain

that respect could no longer

hold back my tongue,

I shouted my insult loud, to his face–

I saw a shadow

pass over his features,

as he remembered

our places.

And then,

having paused,

he spoke, to himself

more than me,

and said, No, I must hear it.

Tell me

tell me all that you suffered.

I knew a man;

he stood like a mountain,

his greatness increased

because of that moment,

because of that pause.

I knew a man,

I loved him dearly.

Later, when life

brought me challenges,

a burden of office

similar to his,

I understood better

his burdens and struggles;

understood my part

in the story that bound us.

We made a plan

to speak in the autumn.

I wanted to own

my part in our story.

Wanted to ask him

to be my mentor and friend.

Instead, in the summer,

I sat in a chapel,

his colleague at last,

silently mourning.

It was his funeral.

I know a man;

he was like a mountain.

I think of him nightly,

I love him greatly.

Whenever fear drives me

to forget my humanity

I think of that moment,

when greatness gathered

in a singular silence,

a readiness to listen;

to be changed by a word.

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