Horatio, The Final Word, A Day Or Two Removed Poem by Dennis Ryan

Saturday morning, January 14,2012; revised Sunday morning, January 15,2012;
Revised Tuesday morning, February 14,2012

"Oh God, Horatio, what a wounded name,
Things standing thus unknown, shall I leave behind me!
If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart...
draw thy breath.../... tell my story."
- Hamlet speaking at the end of Act V in Shakepeare's HAMLET

The bodies now well-disposed,
placed high upon a public stage,
and I to my speech, what to say?
I find no words... Wormwood.
All wormwood here and not, none
to harvest for our better health until
springtime—methinks I'll remark
upon those happier childhood days
when we played together under
the castle walls—Hamlet, Ophelia,
all alike—those sunny days sitting
together side by side talking, laughing,
drawing figures in the dust, and Yorick
gamboling about telling jokes for Danes
and Swedes—we, little adults, rehearsing,
socializing accordingly, for...?For this?
Again, all purposes mistook, and fallen
on their heads.And I not exempt, yet
still alive.And, aye, I fancied her too,
but based upon rank could summon no
face or eye.—And that?What is that?
Ah, that rank smell cannot be covered
by these garlands of garlic.How base.
Would-be-king?Too noble to be?
Aye to all that, more—at ease to say,
but what if I had served in his place?
What would I ha' done?No doubt
the same—methinks a man's character
is his fate, and I would ha' shared it given
the situation. I will not now comport myself
as some antique Roman in Hell.Hell's
bells—Fortinbras was right:Hamlet died
a soldier's death, and a soldier's tribute,
his alone, I will give—he died serving
his father, family, himself first—nothing
more.The rest was "put on by cunning
and forced cause".Now, all aright,
forthwith to my speech in all honesty.