All that resolve

[DWAYNE]

The surgeon operates again!

It is the blunt honesty, depicting one who favoured the unvarnished truth.

I especially loved the last stanza.

It zings every time I read it.

[RhymeLovingWriter]

Additional reads pull from me additional thoughts (your added gloss helped along too).

There is something to be admired in a person of singular purpose. It is a character trait which has afforded the rest of us great inventions, innovation, inspiration...probably more 'i' words I can't recall right now. Yet when the sole singular purpose is to intentionally end further human endeavor, I take pause.

That seems selfishness on my part and how sad that makes me. Even sadder to think such courage was saved for action which could never be repeated.

Each person is a wonder - whatever life circumstances might say. It is so much pity that we communicate it poorly or can be manipulated into believing otherwise.

Thank you so much. Your poetry always succeeds in making me think. Hoping all is well with you!

[AlexandratheLate]

“Like sheep being led to the slaughter” is what came to mind either hopelessly or willingly is the way this read to me.

[Rhymeboy]

I agree with Neil Thomas Fellows! Rich and enigmatic! I am compelled to read it over and over! Well done, Grant

[grant hayes]

Quick gloss for the interested reader:
A marginal person takes their own life by stepping from a bridge (the bridge, / that haunted arc, and threw the calculus / down your step to badly wept unfuture, / the first cracking of atoms kissed). The conventional reactions from those who knew the deceased (The later too-late hymns to puzzlement, / pitched in a viral tear) hide a surprise that this person could be so resolute, having always seemed kind of milquetoast while alive. But the drastic decision was not really resolute; it was a gesture of mingled despair (the blacking followed question /.../ you'd known the rest was worms in marrow) and a need to be noticed (shallow /.../ you'd hastened famously there).

[grant hayes]

'Fine to the ear' is my goal, always, amenOra, so I'm glad it sang to you. I often draw a title from a phrase within the poem. It seems to me that it's all too easy for a title to dominate a poem, and I want to avoid that by keeping the title a servant.

[grant hayes]

Hi Parkinsonspoet. Yes, definitely someone has passed, and it's not exactly eulogistic - well read. It's a case of me finding words for something that's quite precise inside my own head, which turns out enigmatic on the outside, yet not so enigmatic that its gist is undetectable. Many thanks for reading!

[grant hayes]

Thank you, Rhymist. I guess it's an address to someone who is no longer there, which accounts for the elegiac/eulogistic impression.

[grant hayes]

Thank you for engaging with it, Neil Thomas Fellows!

[amenOra]

After a few reads, different times, I noticed specifically the title portion is nestled right in the middle, and I just loved the language, conceptual-play. It is 'personal' reading, to me, and sounds o so fine to the ear, thank for you sharing Grant, peace + Kudos

[Parkinsonspoet]

It does read to me to be about someones passing, and a sense of of insincerity. It does seem to be about a funeral but I would not call it a eulogy. Great to read though very colourful description

[RhymeLovingWriter]

This reads to me as elegy/eulogy - not overtly commendatory - yet with honest awareness. Beautifully done Grant. Good to see you posting.

[Neil Thomas Fellows]

Rich and enigmatic, rewarding with every read.

[grant hayes]

Outside every covert, every rite,
no borrowed cross to crest on, only
the blacking followed question,
you kept to the brow of the bridge,
that haunted arc, and threw the calculus
down your step to badly wept unfuture,
the first cracking of atoms kissed.
The later too-late hymns to puzzlement,
pitched in a viral tear, hid marvel
at all that resolve; you'd never picked
the first of a plate, they swooned, nor ever
pushed a point in wounds or play,
and now they sang it loss, put up a stake,
bouquet and heart where you were shallow
as kisses in air - you'd known the rest
was worms in marrow, and so
you'd hastened famously there.