Chapel Hill

by: Tammy Callahan

Resting,
eternal sleep.
Dreaming of yesterday's sorrows.
A chiseled chipped smile artistically
carved, carefully cut, into the solid
 material that once was your face.
Transcending,
totality of reality.
A sculptor alters a personality into
the soulless frame. A shrine is erected.
Children of Osiris bow bended knees
worshiping you like a deity.
Perception of a fool's eye as the child
from your loins who blossomed into a rose
whispers, whispers to you about yesterday's
sorrows that will transform into today's
tomorrows.
The rose weeps silently studying the
artisan's artwork. Awareness shrouds
the mourner walking towards the tomb
that will eternally hold your encased flesh.
Loose earth opens. Her mouth waiting...
waiting to swallow slowly another sacrifice
into her soiling substance.
Taps honor you singing sweet songs
as a flag flaps in the breeze like a wounded eagle
trying to take flight, struggling to reach the heavens,
soaring towards a spiritual state of the
everlasting communion.
Homage is tributary in the raised stars
of the unfurled flag - a eulogy in
red, white and blue.
An old soldier at last reunites with comrades
in purgatory
as his rose fades and
another ashen face will forever smile
into the darkness of the earth.