Bury the Dead
A Poem
Did you just dismiss me?
Listen, please.
These are the parts that need healing,
can you connect with this feeling?
I am reeling from the shouts, and the slanders-
the provocations and gander,
Wonder, why I slip sideways
through this convoluted maze,
unafraid,
in search of truth,
un-mired by our history.
If we cannot refrain from the insane,
will the pain of shame come to reign?
That which fills one with disdain,
fortressed, hollowed, and in vain?
Bestow yourself a throne of fame,
to stave away the pain.
Lest I be as forbidden as Antigone?
At a crossroads between family and morality.
Are we not misled, by refusing to speak of the dead?
Should another tragedy befall us, trust dear Creon,
we surrender only to the same fate.
Will we be victims of our own demise, rather than realize,
the grace in compromise?
Only when cleansed of things unsaid-we-
make haste to bury the dead.
Truth makes way for recovery by way of discovery.
Then let it be told, the very thing that only ye behold.
May the plague be lifted?
Or shall we remain stymied, burdened, and twisted?
