She’s gone and they expect the crowds
the mourners will overflow, hundreds
will pack into too small of a space.
Rent out a grand room, to hold everyone
who wants to pay their respects.
And I look around, lost in the throng,
amidst and adrift
and ask myself
What good can I do now,
so when I die, years hence,
I will be mourned like this?
What good can we all do now?