The Brazen Tomb
On the stand, an urn
Standing prouder than
the tallest pillar in Rome
Yet small and dignified
The entire room bowed
around it
As if in worshiping the
soul,
Which now resides within
the brazen tomb
Roses, carnations, mums
Their perfumes, united
on the winds of grief
Encompassing the room
with the bitterness
Of beauty claiming, “I
remember.”
Convening as parishioners in a crowded sanctuary
Mourners embrace the one
reality of life
Yet why are they here?
Love? Guilt? Closure?
Obligation?
They only see themselves
when death
Has passed near
The candles burning
Symbolizing a life force
now departed
Radiant light dances on
the highlights
Of tin and copper1
The flames, cool and soothing
Sing of hope, eternity,
God
The same element that
destroyed the flesh
Enabling the residence
of
The Brazen Tomb
Scott L. Mockerman 12/02/98