Abraham Lincoln Poem by Jeffrey Obomeghie

Abraham walks into the theater
Leaning on his cane
The man who speaks the vernacular
Is hours from being slain

He knew what end awaited him
Knew his lamp was glowing dim
All his life melancholy had baited him
But death was not defeat, it suited him

We all know what end awaits us
The hangman's rope, the executioner's curse
Even though we are too afraid to say it
And we hope that our prayers will delay it

While Booth waits to make history
Abraham waits to meet his destiny
Resigned to his fate
He is willing to keep the date
with that shot
That would leave the country distraught

Abraham knew the price of being born too early and living too long
The price of knowing what was right in a world that embraced what was wrong
Abraham knew the price of standing against the throng
He knew that he really did not belong
He laughed at funerals and cried at births
He had lived one life but died a thousand deaths
A man cannot buy his friends
or pay off his enemies

As the bullet pierced his side
And he felt his life subside
He wondered if his killer was merely playing a part
In a theater where actors were paid to act
the man who shot him out of pure malice
Had granted him peace and sweet release

Abraham takes his last breath
And surrenders to the sweetness of death
He is neither afraid nor angry
But he grieves for his wife Mary

His weary soul takes flight
And leaves the nation to its plight
Lincoln and Booth march into history,
Two men who shared the mistress of destiny
The man who wanted to be famous
And the man who hated to be famous
One man reviled
the other man revered