I’ve seen your face before.
We’ve spent time together before today.
You are so beautifully broken.
Made of marble, yet fragile as clay.
The years have chiseled deep.
The salt air has sanded away.
I hope one day to look just like you.
Yes, I know, it’s a lofty goal.
The calm countenance of a wise, humble, seasoned priest.
O, yes you are!
I see right though that meager disguise.
A fisherman, a priest; they’re practically one and the same.
Saint Peter, Saint James, Saint John…
The Fisher-King kept those three extra close.
Plus, your hat gives it away.
Chipped or not, I know it’s really a halo.
“Come, follow me…and I will make you fishers of men.”