He had the look of sailor
Bushy trim, inbled ink
Lips to liquid elegance
Gave me cause to think
I saw his soul
People passed in passing
As they passed and passed on by
I was caught from passing
By reflections in his eye
I saw his soul
In vino told his verity
Crystal goblet crimson stained
Identity invisible
Absent but for pain
I saw his soul
He mused of distant lands, he spoke
Of places he had been
Of service, home, his children
And a wife he’d hardly seen
I saw his soul
He told of losing hope and faith
Of wishing death’s release
Of deepest well he’d ever known
Of falling to his knees
I saw his soul
I asked him frankest questions
And he did not balk from truth
He analysed and after thought
Depicted foolish youth
I saw his soul
He did not ask, I never said
His wine was eloquent
I lived a little of his life’s
Redemptive glass, a gent,
I saw his soul
He gave me food for future
In the telling of his tale
I gave him gloves and scarf, a coin
And wished him fair thee well
I saw it all
Very, very beautiful.
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Thank you so much, Nicodemas.
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To be willing to see and to greet the soul… is it the supreme form of compassion? I think it is ultimately an ennobling and uplifting act, a form of service. To meet another as they truly are, beneath their trappings and woes and desires… I loved the repetition and how no matter the reaction, he was revealed…
Peace
Michael
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Thank you for such a lovely comment, Michael. I’ve never tended to look at appearances as the deciding factor in assessing people. I’m so glad I didn’t then either. He opened up another world and reality to the callow girl I was.
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I like when poetry becomes a story. You told this tale so well where I could sympathize for the sailor’s mistakes. The wine in the crimson stained crystal goblet was an image I won’t forget.
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Many thanks, Reo.This was a real story – a memory from years ago that recurred. It was the fact that he was drinking from a glass and not from a bottle or can that first caught my attention so it’s obviously stayed with me too. And old gent he was.
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God bless whoever was your inspiration
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He’s most likely with him now, Paul. I was only about twenty at the time and he was a fair age then. God bless him, he hadn’t had it easy.
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So much I love about all of this Anne Marie, but perhaps this phrase I love the best, “People passed in passing
As they passed and passed on by
I was caught from passing
By reflections in his eye
I saw his soul”
Well done. Thank you. 🙂
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Thanks, Daniel. It kind of wrote itself after the old man’s face came back to mind – thirty years down the line – and the memory came flooding back.
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It does us good, I think, to remember that we are all but a moment from this: be it fate, destiny or a higher force, we should always reflect on our blessings.
Sermon over.
This is a thoughtful poem, Anne-Marie, full of imagery and points on which to reflect.
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Thanks, Chris. You’re right – there but for the grace of god and all that. He was a lovely man but life had thrown him a few. We never know the minute.
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