The Dead

The dead deserve a dignity that only we can give them,
They deserve it, they can no longer speak for themselves.
They need us to shelter them from shameless curiosities,
Their lives being picked apart and the theft of their privacy.
They ask for nothing, but they deserve so much more,
To be protected from prurient scrutinies, undeserved desires
To know, the probing of hearts and minds and souls, the second
Guessing, they need protection from the petulant little gods,
Who sit in judgement but lack a hint of mercy or compassion.
If we love our dead, we must give them the respect they deserve.
They had their chances; we have ours and theirs is not ours.
They deserve to be protected from our smothering selves
From our desire to expose all but our own murky depths.
They deserve their secrets, and theirs are not for us to tell.
Whatever we say, let us say it tactfully and with charity.
There’s no need to share what they themselves chose not to,
And we should protect them for as defenseless as they are
One day, we will be, prey to others and the intrusive liberties
Those villains will take, and it would be right and just to have
as steadfast a protector, as the ones we ourselves chose to be.