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.