For us remembering is like breathing

She is now beloved
and he gone to the
mountain to be with the stones

He is not your preacher
nor you his silent
congregation in prayer

We are not your people
nor you our chosen
representative in this

They are not your mourners
nor you their high grief;
this is your celebration

I am not your darling
nor you the ash dust
that I rub across my face

This is not your image
nor you reflected
in the windows as the sun

That is not your justice
nor is that your judge;
your only measure is you.