The Forgotten

I have been thinking now for some time of doing a series of dramatic monologues based upon carvings that I have seen in various places that I've been.  The first one of these came to me when I was in the church of Santa Croche in Florence.  I have been tumbling this one over and over in my head for over a year now, and I took my first stab at it.  Feedback would be most greatly appreciated.  I have included a picture that I took of the carving itself so you know what I'm talking about.  Santa Croche is the church in Florence that houses the remains of Dante, Machiavelli, Galileo, DaVinci, and too many other geniuses to shake a stick at. 
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The Forgotten

based upon a worn tomb carving in Santa Croche in Florence, Italy

It must be admitted

this is not how I imagined

the long wait for the glorious trumpet’s Last Call.

In the quiet darkness after the cameras are gone

they mock my choices from around the walls

from their elaborate monuments

Dante, Galileo, even that wretched, toadying politician.

I shift my shoulders philosophically

under my satin-smooth slab and sigh.

These things, after all, they do happen…

Laid to rest at Santa Croche’s altar

covered with my own image in such delicate carving

and three colors of Florentine glory

I rested head and feet on tassled stone pillows

crossed hands on flowing robes

knowing every penitent kneeling

would marvel and aspire to the beatific peace they saw

as I slept my little while.

It is no soft prayer that intrudes on my dreaming now.

Hurrying feet in soft rubber soles erase my identity

as they rush past seeking not heaven

but the exit, the gift shop, the rest room

Each presses lightly, indifferently into my chest

wearing a hole just where the heart should be.

A long crack slowly opens

halving my right foot

creeping toward the black border

where “Resurgat” still dimly gleams

stained stone script still unvanquished.

If they do not remember me here,

if no line forms to see this resting place,

if Time with every passing year his chisel removes

some further trace of my remaining earthly vanity

I take some comfort in this:

I am always near to God and known unto Him.