He found it difficult to sustain
correct connected feelings. Not that
he didn't sympathize or feel sad,
remember better days, blame impatience.

Still he knew he had to behave well,
do the right things, say the right things.
A little quiet gentle humour
might break the tension, but the ones
left behind, those who were close
had to be spared. The dead never cared.

Would he have felt like them? Perhaps.
Normal life becomes unreal, closed
down empty, far from the glittering eye,
smothered, for some never to be recovered.
He was a stranger at the funeral feast.