A Stranger’s Funeral

Mild Musings from a Mediocre Man

To a man I never knew
I go to your grief
Listening for the sighs
Of relief-filled anguish

For lunch, the church disposes
Squadrons of macabre matrons
Chicken and potatoes; ham-hocked honey
Sweet words from dulce lips

Cries of, “I knew him when”
Others of, “I knew him when”
I did not know you then
So I do not cry; I do not

Mine is the placid face
Not uncaring, but not grieved
Still, tears move me to sympathy
Yet, I do not cry; I do not

To a man I never knew
I go to your grief
Wishing you the best of death
And rebirth; a new beginning.

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