Testimonial

Born in a desert
The red sun framing your head
As it sinks below the seething sand,
Your eyes begin to take form,
Small embers of rage,
Tiny reflections of the day’s glory.
An even deeper pool of regret and sadness
Wrought wrinkles around the corners of your once smiling mouth
And the fallen grace that used to dance upon your lips
Now flounders like a flapping fish.

I was told to offer up a eulogy to your still-living self
To mention in high-flung verse
The deeds that sharpened the cursive history writ in stone
But I found none that stand in Time’s withered gaze
The Old Man just reads on past skipping the parts that detail your ad-ventures.
So what remains behind, for me to speak of.
Nothing.
Is that defeat?
Are you one of the billions that accept a soft spot in the grass and pass the moments of their lives in humility
Grateful to count themselves amongst the infinite,
And unwilling to waste a breath exhorting ambition and fame?
Can you find yourself amongst the thronging brotherhood
Where uniqueness is not measured by how high you stick out,
But how tall you stand in your own mind’s eye?

There is no eulogy for you tonight, my child.
Your twin self refuses to offer you up the cushion of self-indulgence.
Choose your flame: regret or fierce belonging.