Rushmore Dirge - A Poem Inspired by Christina Grimmie

All my heroes are dead
and die at about the age of twenty-three  


My heroes soldiered ahead to create
lives for themselves, with a great sense
of adventure and wonderment. Awe for
a world in shambles; the few bright
eyed, love high children who were
all that was the composition of
what some cynic might call
the American Dream  

Was their sacrifice in vain?
Who would dare make that claim
over the towering Mount Rushmore
that was their sprig of ambition
who carved their will into the
hearts of weeping willows
who stretched out drooping branches
over a great happiness they too
could never enjoy  


I was lost
but found my heart beating in
a glow-faced child’s heart
glowed till twilight’s end
a day, one night
My America died with them–
I die young,
I die young, I die young
for every day I live to see
the young die young.  

Greatness was in the hearts of them
I saw pass into the night
and did not return by morning  

I saw the Free barefoot
on a distant shore, across a sea
their chains discarded for tattered 
silken robes;
they washed their hands
and bathed their faces
in the purity of wicked hearts
and blood-soaked eyes
which cry out for peace
but there is none  

her perfect form flows
like fabric clings
spread across a frameless bed
age will never touch
his stalwart arm
no falter in his strength  

O! I can picture their glory
Thunder will never again pierce
the ears of the Only Honest
through mountains strived
and crowned with not but nobleness
how radiant we count their few tears  

O! Proudly I salute
their straight shoulders
their peaceful lips
By their right, triumph forever  


The dead are not dying
Our memories are not faint
Their blood is our flag
we stand proudly at its side  

For Christina, Christina-Lee, and Cody Pomeray
the earth was too dim and distant-
such infernal stars 
burned and blossomed at a
resplendent, peculiar pace
-suffered the curse of candle
burned from end to end  

At Ease, Forever Beautiful
May Ironic Points of Light
always and always your courage speak
And the cold marble of the Brave know
the honor by the impassioned
who lived and died through you  

We, the left behind,
shall light the way
for those like you  

Jonathan Sanders 6/12/2016

Critiques:
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4nqhrm/monker_rondel_5/ https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4nom9n/one_time_i_thought_i_had_hiv/