funeral for a familiar

a poem i wrote about a year ago

On a cold rainy day in the heat of last May,

A crowd gathered round on the lawn.

Their heads were hung heavy, their breathing was steady,

Their faces were long, red, and drawn.

Among them a teacher, a wise learned preacher,

Stepped up to the hole in the ground.

His face weakly showing the tears that kept flowing,

He said, "Friends, let us gather round:

Here lies my clear conscience,

A martyr of its circumstance,

A traitor to my dissonance

To whom it denied appeal.

In eleventh grade it ran away

In light of some sick display

Of Hope once held but then betrayed

In search of something real;

It took with it my empathy

But it survived such apathy

Whose children weep the entropy

Of their, now late, ideal."

So now I pray for resurrection

To grant me peace of clear correction

Of my perceived good intention

That I will chase with zeal.