The Inner Circle
I've learned to deal with funerals.
They celebrate a history both past and recent,
cementing it with closure just as earth
would close a grave.
There's not much room for victory,
despite the words of triumph in the rite.
But heroes looking at the moment
saw transcendence
at the bedside or the battlement
and drew upon resources
that they never knew they had--
not I, apart, spared from
the crisis, glory-drenched,
that turns good-bye
into transforming art.
Not I, the angel guide
to see the flight,
cold hand in mine.
It is this tiny brittle stone
in shattering
that marks the apex of a pathway
that humanity or other
walks no more.
The confraternity of those
who walked with them until the end,
alone will understand.
~
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