Requiem for a Mother-in-Law Gone Too Soon – Part 11

Eno,

as had been expected,

the vultures came

circling around

the freshly killed game;

the fleas

would not

be left out

of the loop –

such, of course,

is the way

of the world,

such is the way

with the world:

folks would rather

I kept the peace

by muffing up

the truth,

by pretending

that which was

never existed

while that which existed

was more perfect

than the messenger

claims to have heard

seen and

witnessed…

but, of course,

you know darn as well

as I do that

I am no passive

spectator

nor unscrupulous keeper

of an uneasy peace

and truce –

I simply

let the chips fall

where they may,

simply let others

deal with their own

mess and muck,

like man

and his shadow;

I curry no favors,

demand neither respect

nor praise

from any critter

composed of flesh

and blood;

truth,

pent up

and despised

for decades

must be exposed,

must explode

in the face

of doers and

facilitators;

like the force

of gravity,

we are prime

reapers

of our own

seeds –

the messenger

who muffs up

the truth

is thrice

as guilty

as the maker

of misery

and mischief;

besides,

as Grandpa Sintim

used to say

time without cease,

“Plain-talk

Purges

The soul” –

the prophetic tongue

does not rot,

though the entire

universe

may burn up

in flames

of deceit

and parochial

self-interest;

alas,

I have pitched

my tent

with the enemies

of truth

and must be

prepared

for treachery

that transcends

the righteously

examined life;

a toddler,

our elders have said,

may break

snail shells,

not the carapace

of a turtle –

Maafio,

that valedictory glint

in your eyes

which I solemnly

locked onto,

in retrospect,

was the unstoppable

beckoning of fate.

We are

authors of our

own fates,

doers of our

own undoing,

oftentimes –

such is the way

of the world,

such is the wayward

descent of man

and the woman

of the Forbidden

Fruit…

12/5/18