The poet did not enjoy being shouted at. She put her hands over her ears and closed her eyes. This muffled the shouting, but didn't stop it. She turned and took a few steps away -- the man just shouted louder. She was tempted to leave entirely, to run away down the cold mountain, back to where the sun was warm and the breeze blew gently through the coconut palms. But she had not yet found the truth for which she had come searching.
The poet opened her eyes, took her hands off her ears, and walked back to the young man. She reached out and put her hand over his mouth. She said, "Be quiet."
He stopped shouting.