we write as though
bagpipes were calling
scraping their tunes along
seacliffs and moors, 
calling come,
come join the minor key—
turn slowly together
to mourn this latest life 
gone out

we do not answer instantly
but let the sad notes linger
hollowing our hearts
until the walls are paper-thin
and we hold our breath
against the danger 
that they may tear through
bleed us, drain us
dry as the clay
of this shallow grave

we begin a low droning
hymn of humankind
step closer to hear
the contrapuntal verses
of pain, tears, and hope
letting the unfettered
feet of each line
form their own impromtu
funeral dance