The Good Man

My friend Waleed is Syrian

And I miss him here in Riyadh

350 miles away, but how his aged frame

Suffered, and how he took everything

With such grace, such philosophy.

His acceptance of beauty would amaze me

In a country devoid of such suffering,

No snivels about this tragedy as he announced

His son dead, but with dignity he turned his head,

And around his body we engulfed him.

No one can know the meaning of grief,

And Heaven help the man or woman it finds,

But no one can doubt Waleed's pain,

And ever

Until death will I remember

What that man went through,

And how he carried it so well.

**

JRTF

12/03/2015