Poetry

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I wish you hadn't gone that way, pretending
You believed the priest, (whose cold stare
Raked across the family gathered there,)
Would care for her the way you never had.

The one you shunned, frantic in your fear of dying,
Stood by to grant you peace, forgiving grace.
Yet even at life's end, you turned your face
Choosing rather to pretend religous fluff.

It never was enough she chose the harder way
To not condemn, yet draw a line and say, "No more,
Not with me, or them." Self righteous to the core
Your cry for understanding then held no remorse.

Your course a painful one for her, or was it I,
Who stood the ground you should have stood?
Preserved for them the greater good
Innocence, undefiled by family tie.

And now the cry, "He's gone!" and we all
With bated breath looked down, veiled eyes
Where each one's loss alone in time denies
Gladness to the other's deepest sighs.

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