who shall lionize this deceased? and where pray tell shall the bodiless be interred? i know not where to lay bouquets nor what color on such civic holy-days that celebrate my dear departed. the stones i have accumulated to mark a graveside visit stack cold
hurl them at the walls of this always glass but newly transparent house of cards. shatter or bounce. who cares? when dreams die the pain sears as befits that without which we choose not to endure but must. no photo legacy survives just memory of what never was but might have five stages they say, but stuck, i persist in resisting acceptance. my country ‘tis of thee sweet land I dreamed to be.