It’s odd, how some move
In times of grief
Busy-- and with all
The cunning of a thief
Compassion, at scarcity
No condolences made
Neither, sacrifice
Did they ever show up?
Rarely?
Once or twice?
Taking; dictating
Never to be
No dog in the hunt
No stake in the claim
No history, no ties
What’s even their name?
But they want to control the milieu
No manners, no tact
No humanity
Requests and demands
What they’d “better see”
You ask, “How is this all about you?”
Perhaps, there’s a time
When some things should be taught
So folk will conduct
Themselves as they ought
Where does such gall and nerve begin?
Sometimes, it’s just best
To say nothing at all
Pretend you don’t see
Or hear, when they call
Nosy never knocks-- just barges in
It cares not an ounce
How you think, or you feel
It just wants to know
It hopes you will reveal
All the details it surely will share
Your grieving; your pain
They’ve no patience to spare
They’ve shown you who they are
And now, you’re well aware
When it's done
You won't see hide, nor hair
Neither confidant
Nor privileged to know
You trust them no farther
Than your arm can throw them
(and all their dumb questions) away
Discernment comes
You now know who's who
Who's there purely to comfort
Who's there to intrude
And has nothing constructive to say...
#thinkbeforeyouspeak
#mindfulness
#grieving
#ethics
VRWc2026
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