Talking About Death; Why Is It So Hard?

It's easy in here.
I feel like I'm going to choke
no one is saying a word
no ones even spoke.

The white elephant is just standing there
in the middle of the room
yet we don't talk about him being there
is it normal, we assume?

The white elephant stands there
no one gets in its way
they move so far from it
the white elephant is turning grey.

When we were together
and we discussed our lost one all night-
that's when we saw the grey elephant
shimmer and turn to glistening white.

When we walk away from pain
and the thought of a final goodbye
it doesn't hurt the dead
but it hurts those still alive.

Death is not about you,
not about the elephant or its trace
death is a part of life
and to grieve, we should treat it with grace.

"They'll forget about the white elephant."
my father says as we walk out the door.
"It's just a white elephant anyway, and now it's a quarter after four."
his rambling about the creature was a sign of discomfort I see;
But what about what the elephant stands for
What about little ol' me?

So when you see the white elephant,
you know what you need to do.
There's someone in the room that needs a hug
a little bit more than you.

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