Owed To An Ode

Oh, you softener of truth, smoother of feathers, Dust from the shelves the fingerprints of doubt, Unopened books read in dark denial Bindings broken now in feigned forgiveness. Trim now the shadow of a wishful past Prune the pain of all concerned In voices laden with a beggar’s peace Echoing within the sun-dust gleam. Hold, for it is but your wont to praise And do, that kindness thing, you always do cajole the ego and the id cold ashes poured into an urn For praise be but a silenced hopes farewell And memories a mourner’s ever hell. John G. Lawless ©3/7/2023