The mourners sat

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The mourners sat

Around the grave

Dressed in black

To me they

Resembled crows,

An odd kind of

Melancholy to

Their actions

An almost elegance

But an underlying

Nature of

Anger,

Distress,

Darkness.

The crow in

All of them

Showed through,

All were on hooks

Held by

A puppet master

Who tugged

At their strings

And made them

Dance a dance

Of sadness,

Ready to fly

Fly far

Fly beyond

Fly to their friend.

Like crows

I could sense

Their anticipation,

Of the next

Meal, of the next

Death.

The tragedy

Was not so much

About the loss

Of her life but rather

The impossible

Realisation that

We were no longer

Invincible.

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⏰ Last updated: Sep 23, 2011 ⏰

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