Gentle is the kiss -
That graces a pale man’s moribund face.
White lilies bow blooming heads -
As last rites are sung like a hymn.
Why is it always so quiet when the rage boils to a tepid pitch?
Where was this love, honesty, when the pigment was flushed and toned?
Life in vigor, abundance, and without abandon--
While all have abandoned.
Gentle are the tears falling like the morning dew
As the mourning is due, and even the vowels of an eulogy tremble.
Where were the tears when he needed an ear?
Why does the pain of loss only now show the pain that was caused?
By caustic negligence or precedence,
How the nights reared demons like an atrophic birth
And left a silence behind oceanic eyes.
Gentle is the quiet,
Finally, silence,
As the early day’s rays
Shine a spotlight on the encompassing earth
Cover me, and let it be
For as in life so shall it be in death.
…Alone…
