Grief - Seeming

Grief is a craft I’ve perfected at last

I burn

Bow down and learn

Into the mold I’ve been sculpted and cast

Now sternly cry and yearn

Discipline my wistful skin

It’s militant the grief I’m in so

Grief is the plan guiding all that I am

I bruised

I paid my dues

More of a process than I am a man

Infused it’s what I choose

No machine can mourn like me

No program can perform like me

A master of the art I see

Through eyes that never dry

I grieve in measured symphonies

The once and future infancies

Unhatched, but still in sympathy

I know the day they’ll die

Drop and give me ninety-nine tears

Don’t slow down your factory gears

I don’t know but I been told

We need some discipline here