Unwanted Monuments

Grave adorned with statues of a religion not followed,
Mary Mother of God watches over a man who never asked for her presence,
A cross is draped across the dark green marble like a necklace,
Prayers left in hope for a man who never wanted prayers or to pray,
And I just cannot stop this train of thought charging through,
Is this all we have waiting for us at the end of it all?

Sitting in silent solitude in a spot that offers little wisdom but plenty of time,
Perspective should be offered in the young and old buried all ‘round me,
The clouds stop moving and the wind stops blowing upon a sad sound,
A little girl crying for her daddy while her mother desperately tries to explain,
Visitors can only look on and feel sympathy at one so young losing her big man,
I can relate yet disregard her with one simple glance left and right.

A look around and every grave is the exact same,
God, Mary, Jesus, Joseph and the rest dominate these people’s deaths,
The fear of the unknown forces loved ones to act according to the Bible,
Even if those they loved held no passion for God or prayer or salvation,
Even if those we loved just wanted to find a way out,
Regardless of risking a run in with the devil in doing so.

Mind wanders back nearly seven years to the funeral we never wanted,
Readings and references to that dreamt up place called heaven,
All the mourners shaking in floods as they hope its existence is genuine,
Tommy recites his favourite passages which he always wanted his son to favour,
Even though Tommy knew full well, and still knows full well seven years on,
That his son never heard God’s apparent calls of reason.

Tommy buried himself in signs while his son was buried closer to hell,
Claiming his son is being watched by a God he never truly believed in,
Denial is a river down withered old cheeks too stubborn to change their ways,
The loss of a real thing will only reinforce belief in something that has no proof,
And Tommy will want those statues resting on his son’s grave to remain,
Even if his son never thought this was all his death would mean to his father.

(I visited my father's grave one day and, seven years after he passed away, suddenly realised the hypocrisy he was buried in and the hypocrisy he his now remembered by).