So – was he then so
Fierce? Those eyes, dark
In the ochre oval of his face
Pin intellect to soul in
A transfixing glance – no
Shrugging that look off in
Complacent evasion.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . – Ah,
Friend, there were those who
Turned away, but with no
Ease: rather the words weighed
Against the challenge of the light as
Lightly we trod his path.
“Who am I?” he asked
Insistently, denying escape.
An answer? Dangerous,
Wild, challenging, too
Close to know? Lord, we said,
Desperately, and found it so.


5 thoughts on “Icon

  1. Chris, thank you for a poem that takes seriously the passion and toughness of what it means to follow – not always knowing why we do, till we say desperately, Lord. Reading this I know why you’re an RST fan – but this is your own voice. Thanks.

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