Ironically, the mourner must console

Ironically, the mourner  must console
Must lend an ear , must seem,must exhale calm
To  visitors and friends who make their calls

We are not permitted  rightful  roles
Of grieving  widow,mother, woman harmed
Ironically, the mourner  must console

The cancer patient’s told to be more whole
The illness,  like a   poison snake,  to charm
Say  visitors and friends who make their calls

How much of our  self can be controlled
By power of will or meditation’s balm?
Ironically, the sufferer  must console

Was there  Eden, was there a great Fall?
Is there a  God or has he been embalmed?
Oh  visitors and friends  go make  your calls

Like the Mariner I am becalmed
For I did not gather death into my arms
Ironically, the mourner  must console
The  visitors and friends who  feel the call

I welcome comments and criticism

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