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