Young Writers Society

Funeral In Unglaciated Country

I'm staring in the mirror at false skin, all my inquietudes declawed,

I cast my pail into the wellspring of my soul, hoping there's something left to be drawed

Can a sky be so gray? As though heaven is a nightmare and we are trapped below,

The ground is powdered with but a few dustings, but it's as cold as a thousand snows

Oh the afternoon is drawing closed, I best be saying goodbye,

When we mingled then it was so hazy, but the memory now is painfully clear,

Even then you held us all esteemed while I twitched in the assembled conventioneers

Even when they hate it, the young should clench their youth and be holding fast,

Because now there's no way to return to the mirthful faithful in emancipation amassed

My engine turns and I think to myself; "Why you? It was my turn to die."

***

I've never driven this far south, and I see where the glaciers abated 10,000 years ago,

The highways lonesome, all the evils creepin', what's in the farms and woods I don't want to know

I swear the horizons cursed, behind it the headless children sing,

I turn the corner and I swear, I see them spying behind the winged sycamores of spring

Back northbound, turned around, and lo there's that precious plastic chapel,

The sweetest nectar can distill the finest mead,

And your hospitality betrays a kindliness that none could ever superseded

You treated me as if I were your son, every shady menace killed on sight,

Fellowship is so fleeting, but then I was tickled by the happy whiskers of the night

I hold the fruitage of sixty-six books, and I bite that bitter apple

***

I was late, but I think my presence was what mattered in people's minds,

And though it's just behind the door, I left my beliefs very far behind

That preacher man espoused from the stage, about your hope and the promised prince,

And I just stared at your memorial, my mind giving me nothing to evince

I'm staring in the bathroom mirror, reflecting on belief,

Yonder with you was my jubilation, the arcadia of my dreams,

And every time was a new education, I'd graduate with your son it seems

And when I was there I was happy, because I wasn't so alone,

The forest was so pretty, and it's baptismal streams where were I could atone

It's wine for our excitement, it's religion for when it's our time to leave

***

I've got three boys, I do love them all,

All of them are weepin', one is building for them a castle tall

And I've got three girls, for them my heart and tear ducts are aglow,

All of them have my sweetest sympathies, and two I used to know

And as for the siblings, the anchorage of my heart for thee does so heavily weigh,

I didn't want to write this poem about me, I really, really tried,

It was selfish of me but I really miss you, I guess I don't know what's eating me up inside

God will send his only son for thee, and you'll reflower the frozen plain,

But I'll be dust and ashes scattered to the winds, these hills forever my domain

I'm sorry for your loss, thank you for letting me in your lives both previously and today

***