A Rich Soul
You were a rich soul Scott,
blessed with an abundance of words
laced with rhyme
Your wealth of experiences
reflected through your every word
enriching my mind
stirring my emotions
in ways that I did not know existed.
You wore your words like an armor
shielding yourself from the harshness of the world
Your words worked as a mirror
that bared your soul
Your kind words were your crown
making you stand out
in a world that was not as kind to you
You were a rich man Scott
and you left us with your priceless words
and precious memories
that have left us wanting for more.
A prolific poet, an artist, a friend and most importantly a noble soul, Dear Scott, you were the heartbeat of our writing group. You were a craftsman who effortlessly brought art to life with the rhyme and rhythm of your poetry. You were the master of breathing life into the words, which worked as a lens for us to watch your life in the past, present and the future.
"I wish everyday was Thursday," you would often say in your cheerful voice. Simple things like a friendly smile and a warm hug made you happier than anything else. It humbled me that someone could attach great value to such ordinary things, most of which we do without even realizing that we are doing it. "I am blessed, I cannot complain," you would say when I asked you how you were doing. Even as you said those words, I could see the constant anxiety and uncertainty hidden behind them. And yet, you wanted to camouflage them with the warmth of your smile. It felt like you wrapped your hunger pangs, tired body and aching soul in fancy paper, tied tightly with glittery ribbons, not allowing others to see the emptiness sitting heavily inside you.
Every Thursday until the past year, I have waited for you to read your poetry. You made us laugh, cry, cringe, think beyond ourselves, think harder, with the power of your perfect choice of words. Sometimes, your words felt like velvety rose petals caressing my skin, sometimes they stung me with anger, bitterness or pain, sometimes it made me laugh out loud, clapping my hands in joy and many other times, it left me deeply pensive and emotional, with thick tears rolling down my cheeks.
There are no words to tell you how much you will be missed. Your words still echo in my ears, making me angry about your death. I pray that you are in a better place now my dear friend,
because a pure soul like yours only deserves the best. I know you would love the poem that I wrote for you, my writer friend whom I will never see again, but lives in my heart forever.
May your soul rest in peace.
You were a rich soul Scott,
blessed with an abundance of words
laced with rhyme
Your wealth of experiences
reflected through your every word
enriching my mind
stirring my emotions
in ways that I did not know existed.
You wore your words like an armor
shielding yourself from the harshness of the world
Your words worked as a mirror
that bared your soul
Your kind words were your crown
making you stand out
in a world that was not as kind to you
You were a rich man Scott
and you left us with your priceless words
and precious memories
that have left us wanting for more.
A prolific poet, an artist, a friend and most importantly a noble soul, Dear Scott, you were the heartbeat of our writing group. You were a craftsman who effortlessly brought art to life with the rhyme and rhythm of your poetry. You were the master of breathing life into the words, which worked as a lens for us to watch your life in the past, present and the future.
"I wish everyday was Thursday," you would often say in your cheerful voice. Simple things like a friendly smile and a warm hug made you happier than anything else. It humbled me that someone could attach great value to such ordinary things, most of which we do without even realizing that we are doing it. "I am blessed, I cannot complain," you would say when I asked you how you were doing. Even as you said those words, I could see the constant anxiety and uncertainty hidden behind them. And yet, you wanted to camouflage them with the warmth of your smile. It felt like you wrapped your hunger pangs, tired body and aching soul in fancy paper, tied tightly with glittery ribbons, not allowing others to see the emptiness sitting heavily inside you.
Every Thursday until the past year, I have waited for you to read your poetry. You made us laugh, cry, cringe, think beyond ourselves, think harder, with the power of your perfect choice of words. Sometimes, your words felt like velvety rose petals caressing my skin, sometimes they stung me with anger, bitterness or pain, sometimes it made me laugh out loud, clapping my hands in joy and many other times, it left me deeply pensive and emotional, with thick tears rolling down my cheeks.
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| We had so much fun on this field trip to CPCC for Sensoria, 2018. Scott is standing on the extreme left, wearing a red cap. |
because a pure soul like yours only deserves the best. I know you would love the poem that I wrote for you, my writer friend whom I will never see again, but lives in my heart forever.
May your soul rest in peace.
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