If Funerals Are For the Living
Must we cry at funerals?
Or might we stand there motionless-
Clutching fists or hands at rest
Between the mourning generals
Must we drown our eyes in tears?
Or might we simply look away-
Weigh the rain another day
And feign to hear some hollowed cheers
Must we hide a torrid cry?
Or might we hold a paper piece-
Hear a sermon shushed by peace
And empty hearts as they breathe dry
Might we look up at the bird
That disappears amongst the trees
Pulled back to earth by the breeze
And finds the roots to hear its word
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