His Place Among Men Poem by Alexander Beebe

His Place Among Men


To look at his hands was to look at his life.
Bent, broken, leathered and tooled.
His hands
told as much about his journey as his eyes
and gentle smile.

You could almost feel the road his life
has taken. No remorse, no regrets
maybe a little pain but he wore it well.

I couldn't take my eyes off his hands!
It was as if I found the Great American Novel
and it begged to be read and understood. Was I
even qualified to try?

His size was modest compared to most but
he was a giant among men. Even the oaks
of his kind yielded to his craft. Nothing but
years in the saddle, miles on the line and ropes
in the hand can create such a man-such a man as this.

But I sensed there was more to it than that. I had
known others similar to him in trade but far from
him in stature, spirit and grace. I guess some men
just have that aura. Maybe it's something they're born with
but I doubt it. I could tell this man was given no special consideration.
No… he earned his place among men.

I never saw him again and deeply regret not speaking with him.
Every time I think of him I smile and feel encouraged.
I was told he was a man of few words. I disagree…he spoke
volumes, far more than men with endless chatter.