Nobody will speak of grief
Or abide in its presence for long
Nobody knows what to do
With a presence comfortably ingrained
Suddenly become absence forevermore.
Oh! The pillagers and deceivers come!
Selling bridges across the yawning abyss
As if the disrupted routine could be restored
After such irrevocable upheaval.
Even could the process be reversed
The departed would not be the returned.
Reduced to their component parts
Essence scattered and re-purposed
Could anything ever, having undergone
Such monumental transformation
Be exactly as before?
Of course not.
Only fools and liars dare otherwise claim
As they circle the bereaved, intent on gain
Their pretend-comfort another open grave.
Nobody wants to deal with grief
Gaze into that gaping hollow naught can fill
Listen to the screeching wails
Wade the mucous flood
Witness the paroxysms and convulsions
That cease today only to resume tomorrow
Until the time they unexpectedly relent
As the edges of the weeping gash scab over.