I have stood before audiences,
said profound words,
crafted plays and taught thousands,
published thoughts that outlived the moment,
and evolved a life of purpose and reflection.

But set all of that aside.

My pride — my quiet, unmovable pride —
is this: I have never made another person small.
Not once have I leaned into someone’s fear
to feel my own stature grow,
nor colonised and eaten a heart.

No, never.

I know my failings. I could list them
like jagged stones in a glass jar,
each one familiar to my bleeding hand.
But cruelty is not among them.
To wound deliberately,
to use my voice as a smoking weapon
against the vulnerable —
that is a language I never learned,
never wished to learn.

There is in me, I think,
a gentle soul,
a looking to the lonely guiding
star of kindness,
not fashioned by accident
but tended, chosen,
committed to the ordinary divinity
of every person I meet.

I knit it like a scarf that keeps me warm.

Beyond my marriage, my children,
my grandchildren — those sacred loves
that stand above all else —
this is what I would have spoken of me:
he did no harm on purpose.
He saw you. He let you be.

 

24/4/2026