The Saint
May 23, 2006 | 25 Rabbi al-Thanni 1427
His hands were like chasms that had been filled in with a life-time of dirt and grit.
Speaking in a babble of tongues, he uttered the names of the Saints.
He was not crazy; I could see lights behind his eyes.
He had seen things no man should ever have to see; lived like everyman presumptuously wished.
He knew St. Luke’s but he prefers to live outside.
Crumpled pages, all scraps of paper - a trail of missed hopes and unfulfilled dreams. Reverently, he tucked them in his pocket.
Rendered motionless by his gaze; I could only watch him turn and walk away.
