Friendship

Mr. Emerson, I have read and quaffed deep
Of the passion that you describe.
What more is there to say?
Exuberant, friendship is deep;
The balance between amity and animosity
Is what strikes me most in your essay.
Who has said it better?
I cannot. Surely...

Friends are knitted to each others' souls,
And if undone, the threads pull away
And a hole is left in their garments.
Yet, the knitter knows to do so
In order to strengthen the fabric once more.
If the seam was imperfect the first, second, or third time,
The tailor knits it anew.

For, friends leave, sometimes the distance of five years;
For a bitter fight, for a bitter antagonism,
For a harsh word, a harsh syllable,
A slur, a comment or nasty degree.
And like church discipline,
This absence of the fellowship grows patience
Within the heart of a man;
To reflect and learn how not to injure.
For, in the absence, the friends come together
After years of repose, new men
Yet the old men, and congregate
To find the roots of their friendships
In tact, and sewn back together
Where the threads were pulled,
The holed extremities seamed,
And then the threads woven once anew
To make a stronger garment,
And to teach a true friend the lesson
Of being a friend:
Which is to listen.