Photo by Andrey Zvyagintsev on Unsplash
You can stand at his grave
In your cloud of delusion
Embellishing his life
A Sanitized version
Omit the inconvenient truth
You can stand there and hide
Behind rose coloured glasses
The ones through which you told his story
A false portrayal
Now etched into stone
You can play this charade
Insist he was perfect
A superior being
Faultless and pure
And insult his soul
You can obscure the truth
Conceal what is real
Sweep the crumbs of his life under the rug
And walk away grieving
Your tragic illusion
But I’ll lift that rug
And shake it with vigor
I’ll celebrate his life
Honor him
As the crumbs dance
with glorious rapture
freedom
and truth.
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About the Creator
Jania Williams
I have always found verbal communication challenging, so I write.
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