Graveyard [2]

(after Jean Pierre Rawie)

In a whirlpool of emotions
I stand at the grave,
half full of grief with the tender remembering
of things that went wrong,
somewhat ashamed that things had not been different
and the strangeness is startling,

I am astonished by other persons
for whom tears come so easily,
about how meaningless life is,
about how death touches caring,
about how the final farewell
drives love to its limit.