Roland Wilkerson, rest in peace

To call him my friend
would perhaps be a stretch.
Easily half the comprehensible words he ever spoke to me
were barked in anger;
an understandable response as
I put on the aspect of displeased authority.
But he was part of my community
and I was part of his. I knew him not as well as some
but better than many, I'd venture.
He was not as crazy as he let on.
He understood much more than he responded to.
When so much is out and open for anyone to see and touch and judge
perhaps his inner life was something
that could be safe from elements and eyes.
Was his music beautiful? I confess I never heard him play.
Maybe I didn't know him at all.
No one here will, now. The cold took him.
Can I take some comfort, remembering?
A donut here, a mail drop there? Did I help?
A cup of soup, not from me, but warmed his last night on Earth.
I'm glad of that.