The just-bereaved has a very busy traffic going on
Inside the brain.
Not on ground, but informed after others,
With no time to control the heavy-duty staccato traffic —
Besieged brain, battling moving time that can never wait.
The unbridled, unqualified informant broke protocol,
Bypassed without pass,
Denigrated, downplayed, and informed the world before the controller.
Without waiting to debrief, went abegging,
Seeking debasing help to capture the control baton.
Game uncovered — no time for debriefing
While unfailing time moves on.
Plan B detonated as a safety bomb,
But was almost disrupted by web-like traffic of calls,
From those pre-informed by the unbridled informant.
Common sense is not common after all,
They should have known.
Pointed privacy is needed.
Calls, visits, details of demise — not needed,
Never to be entertained,
Until the congested roads in the brain are eased
And the ground is cleared for the dust to dust ritual.
Calls upon calls, demanding details not yet ascertained,
Unapologetically ignored —
Not out of pride,
But because dust to dust cannot wait for gossip,
And heavy grief needs heightened quiet to do its holy work.
Then, now and always —
Privacy, please, need not be requested;
Common sense should have known.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem