I got to wear my suit today 
The black pinstripe from London
My black tie 
And my black boots 
The ones with silver tips
To the memorial service 
To view
Not him
Not his body full of Covid 
But a faux marble box 
Full of his ashes 
Flanked by photographs
Flanked by flowers
And to sing songs 
And hear about the resurrection
And mansions in the sky
For he was a good man
A true servant of the Living Christ
And this was the Good News
Upon which rested his faith
But I wonder if the words
Have the same meaning for him
Now that he is dead 

The man at the pulpit
The preacher
The ordained and consecrated 
Spoke and spoke
Of the saint now dead
Of how he was with Jesus at the throne
And how on the last day his body 
Now ashes
Would be raised
And he preached a full sermon
Noting chapter and verse
But although he had known
The man for decades
And worked closely with him
And broke bread with him
Sharing sorrow and joy
He showed no hint of emotion
Nothing beyond the ritual
Nothing beyond the verses
The chosen of God
Naught but a shallow hollow man
Presiding over the funeral of a Saint
How unfair that seems
The dead deserve better 
But in the end 
I guess it won't really matter 
The dead will remain dead
And the charlatan
The hypocrite with the collar
Will remain the ordained
And the chosen will remain chosen
Until he
Until we all
Join humanity
In death
A common passage to the grave

©2021 Kevin Fraleigh