The Man

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The Man

Dark. Grief. All he could do was wait for the next day. Life was watching of dead time leaving the scream nobody wants to hear.

He was a knowing, insightful man asking hard questions. Where is the final shore refuge from pain, wounds of ignorance and cruelty? Prisoners often asked for help. He did what he could,

He looked through prison bars. Close, sinister yet he saw with spiritual eyes, heard with spiritual ears. Hurting found stillness in him. Existence is more than this. Living in broken society frightened him, he longed for people to understand.

People can think for themselves. They know questions the powerful prefer to ignore. Justice was not revenge, hurting the already pained. Justice treads a path showing the way; it restores fragments

to a new whole. There is another way of life, near he could feel its gentle breath. Some turned against him. Yet, he held that there was another way. The door opened.

“It’s time,”

Time indeed time is forever “now”

Smiling he went with them.

George Coombs (179 words)