He sat beside me
drawn into futility:
conversation,
gestures,
thought.
I knew who he was,
well-known, a scientist,
iconoclast,
catholic,
priest.
He cried beside me,
shown to have frailty,
human weakness,
denounced,
old.
A man of sorrows,
despised by the world,
wrongly condemned,
finished,
free.
He looked toward me,
willed me his compassion,
smiled a broad smile,
stood up,
fell.
May 2001
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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