Bourbon Biscuits

Back to the politely accusing stares
that say
"You've taken a whole week out of
your working life -
For an old man's
death."

As if it were stretching compassion;
As if a week could be enough
to sort one's grieving.

So I continue with working life.
We all do...
... Until Bourbon Biscuits remind
  that there's always
unconscious clues
     hiding
warily for us to find
  a sudden need for lock and
loo
and an inconspicuous cry.

Life becomes a way to remind
  that poignancy will be
floating
     around,
inside connecting outside;
Take granules of time, and grind

Up and out of your searing mind;
In life, another though dear person.
In Death, he is another, primed
to remind, he is not the first

One, to this earth we Bind,
Two, we become ill-prepared.
Three, resistance we find
is wasted, at least we dared

To live, and dareless or not
We are gone, Life Thanks a lot.