The Words of His Roaring

The drive north for a board meeting was lovely; the sun was shining this morning. Every so often I looked across the rolling prairies, and thought of that scene in The Studhorse Man, where the horses all get loose from the slaughterhouse and stampede through downtown Edmonton, and I’d smile. Prairie Odyssey, indeed. When I think of this thing I have chosen to do…no…this thing I am compelled to do, I think of the first time I met you.

I was shy. So shy. I was star-struck. Out of breath. You were a giant. Your eyes shone and twinkled, and there was a generous smirk beneath your beard. I was tongue-tied and blushing. You offered me a glass of wine and took the time to sit with me. We talked about writing, and dreams, and poetry.

I embarassed myself that night, and you were gracious. I left with a mind full of words and a soul full of passions. Every time we met, you had a smile for me, a warm laugh, a hug, and inspiration. Whenever you spoke, your words reverberated for years. And when I read you, I hear you.

Your voice is not silenced, but echoes back and again through the souls you’ve touched, through the words you’ve given, through the dreams you’ve fostered. You are missed, Bob, and you are dearly, dearly loved.

Thank you.

cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.

1 Comment

i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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