Reparation - For Memorial Day

A bent knee ... Cloaked in black nylon, a briny drop from The smooth cheek, contingent baptism For a closed hand, it's precious cargo, Now consecrated by circumstance and Fate, moments before this it was but The root-stuff of weeds and worms, Now the sacred repository for all words Unsaid, all emotions unspeakable, all Essences of parting. The earthy symbol Of a concluded responsibility, elements Of a soul displaced to the realm obliviate, Gently fetched from the dark mound beside, The loamy results of a somber chasm Gouged from the grass like a war wound, (Six feet deep). Hand trembling, the Digits part and loose their dark cargo, Meager clumps of rich soil tumble their Way to the grave, bouncing into the Somber cleft and clinking with little Thumps on the polished wood vessel Below, it's fine gold appointments glinting Like sprites in the chill of mid-day brilliance. A soft irregular drumming flows up from The foramen as the soil reaches it's Adamantine destination, like the sound His fingers once made on the arm of His favorite chair ... when impatience Surged, or his twinkling eye anticipated The regard of his beloved, her return Gaze the reply to the soft cadence made, Their furtive code to the corporeal Reward to come. Countless such Remembrances, now only JUST that. This gentle thrumming made but sad Sonance, a wordless requiem, final, the Music of life and love shorn of it's sweet Melody, divested and sacrificed to a War half a world away, and a cause And effort made as meaningless now As the words just spoken, and the Tear-stained hand, and the hallowed Dirt set loose ... To it's resting place.