Rituals
For the dead,
we swallow past
the lump in our throats
We stand up to speak
in the face of those
whose misery matches ours
We struggle for words
to share our hearts
and our loss
Birth and death dates
are inscribed in newspaper articles
or etched on stone
to become part of a story
of a life that no one
wholly knows
Most of us only meet
in the middle, missing
the birth or maybe the final moment
And every day
and some day
each person here
will have to grieve
the dead or be grieved
by the living
Year after decade
we mourn
and remember
Our rituals for the dead
become love
honoring love