On Hearing That Someone You Knew Died

Some gallantry is what you’d dare
to hope for first –
here or there, no matter where –
that it might bear
the gently bursting air –
the generosity – of something
graciously alert – concerned –

though with enough
cool distance to insure
whatever prepossessing breath –
detachment – wisdom – were
required to assess the larger view.
A mild availability and receptivity
and firm consistency,

you’d hope, might so comprise
the tone – that of the sort
of softly reassuring sighing lullaby
you’d want to overhear
a mother sing to some already
sleeping child – that it would quiet
every tremble, trepidation

at the prospect of the wild
and savage truer nature of what you,
alas, at last, are sure
we have to face instead.
There may be Paradise
for an Eternal Life –
but there’s no heaven for the dead.

.