Snow fell yesterday

And today leaves the bushes low to the ground

I read to myself his remembrances

Bound in his brother’s handmade book

I can never be certain what made him

So celestial to us

He was such a burly, physical man, and yet

His presence so ethereal, so light and lofty

As if his voice should have been something to issue from a small bird

Or a lamb, yet everything and everyone

Depended on his words

They were important;

Beautiful and delicate

Ever full of truth and simple wisdom

We waited for them; hoped for them

With baited breath, until the end.

I was told that a dark haired friend of mine

Saw him walking in the garden

Briskly and with great purpose as he once walked

Before tremors crept up into his limbs

And I wept

For I remember him this way

The way a human should be

The way I long to be

Fear could not consume him

He played against no opponent

But only lived, persevered, overcame

The obstacles which tried to paralyze his soul