atop the casket of my youth.
Sealed within this darkened vacuum
of divine permanence and a heavy lid
my nimble thoughts seem much tighter
than these impatient feet
fidgeting above my earth.
Onward Christian soldiers,
into Taps -
the forlorn harbinger cast shallow
into deeply inspired patriotic dirt.
Does someone pray?
How no one weeps,
though all keep vigilant hush.
I lie in still, embalmed repose,
elegant, stiff in military clothes
and dream upon no particular thought,
as pallbearers of my departed past -
desired, no more
yet loved, no less…
to each wandering thought,
and vacuous consoling distress.
No tangible trace, I leave behind
my conscience free, though body tied
to what might have been
with enforced obligations
abandoned, unfulfilled – and yet…
if only I had incurred enough strength
to have changed my will.