A little man in his late seventies <br />trudged along <br />in front of the Hebrew Home For the Aged in Coney Island <br />grey skull, faded skin, <br />huge rounded hump on his back <br />forcing him to totter on in a stooped position. <br />“The Messiah is coming, ” he said, <br />“Are you waiting also? <br />I know it’s a long time we’re waiting. <br />But He will come. Otherwise, <br />what is the meaning of our Earthly existence? ” <br />In order to look at me he tilted his head <br />causing his lips and cheeks to tremble. <br />“There must be a purpose to life <br />other than death. No? <br />What do you say? Walk with me. Walk for the Messiah. <br />If I only stand my strange shape pains me.” <br />Just then Angie strolled over <br />and said, “ Irving Frankel, you’re looking good.” <br />Then appeared a great rush of words: <br />“We want too much. No? <br />Perhaps not to want happiness, <br />not to think of it, then He comes? <br />Perhaps my suffering—the Messiah’s gift? <br />Never do I rest. Later? After the end? Then? <br />“Irving Frankel, ” said Angie, her voice so sweet, so gentle, <br />his name like a benediction. <br />No words now, silence <br />staring at Angie. “You’re a handsome lad, ” she said <br />kissing him softly on the cheek. <br />Still silence, his face serene, <br />waiting <br />Angie kissing him again <br />this time <br />a smile.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/above-all-things-desirable/
