The Visitation
This bed the last his frame would ever know
He rested ignored, forgotten – or at least
What protocol would allow
Like a ghost, hidden in the subconscious, rather than
De facto, recumbent on the wooden berth
In vain endeavor to remind them of his proximal
Motionless remains; to turn them from their mirth
The ceremonious coffin seemed to repel
Rather than lure the scrutiny of the throng
Whispers glided among disoriented human swells
Inartistically massed throughout the chamber room
Chit-chat and muffled chortles, ladies gossiping,
Admiring dresses, couples, anything but that
Compassionate ones embraced the family
And inquired after their predicament
Yet only when by willful act
Of defiance against an unseen force’s
Natural pull would one cross the tract
And bid himself deliberate glance upon the corpse
The younger son stood by – a warm host
To consolating friends – and pointed out to uneducated
Guests his uncles, aunts and cousins most
Like a museum’s hall of statues sculpted
Was this convocation a sigh of relief
More than a somber affliction
That attends agonizing grief?
“We’d been expecting it”
The younger son enlightened the ignorant,
“He’s been sick for some time”
Yes, a sigh of relief and perchance
An ease of hearts tired
He who eternally slept left no legacy
For a family’s bosom to hold,
No honor in this death, just drowning
Pain, or maybe life just got old
The honeyed emollient of drunkenness
Destroyed not only his heart
But, like a disease of despair, infectious
To two young brother’s blossoming start
Detached far across the room
Stood the elder son smiling
With an infant in his arms, he crooned
His fatigued eyes lightening
The innocent babe’s merry cry,
A subconscious hope, wiped away this plight
It enveloped them with a happy sigh
As they clung to the joy of life
Ushered in as a fresh breath
And blotting out the unsaid
Repugnance of this death
Contrasting from his bed