Kay Jay

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A Soul Eternal

men of fallible faith are often defined
by days of doubt and hours of despair
relegated to anguish in endless contemplation
the origin of their conviction
and the uncertain end
to their unconsecrated lives
you, so perpetually condemned,
and so relentlessly tempted
by the lure of every-day
have died
there is no gilded scroll in hand
no vision, or message whispered in a dream
to ease my anguished heart
or appease my tormented wonder
I am left fatherless in angst
to seek for some measure of selfish resolve
the destination of your soul,
the judgment of your heart
and the invisible end to the treacherous path
I seem meekly unable to avoid
I am unable not to doubt
your body lying cold upon the slab
your suit pressed neatly round your neatly folded tie
that your soul has gone as cold and grey
as your skin, poisoned and tasteless to my kiss
and yet:
your soul must live!
how can such a soul as yours
have been created solely for this end?
it's beauty defines you on this day:
in children's lives that never would have been
in tears shed in testament to struggles endured
in cherished childhoods posted in black and white upon the wall
in cracked voices of those who seemed misunderstood
in prayers of those who do not pray
and tears of those who could not hurt
and while your place in life: behind the cross, obscured
was lived in silent servitude and doubt
your death has brought a new locale
beneath the altar of your Church
amidst the saintly sheets of white
so I, fallible in more than faith, as you
continue on your inevitable path
with joy and wonderment at each revelation
of similar flaw, or inherited despair
for my life, like yours, is but a term to build
the earthly beauty by which to mourn
an eternal soul.

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