when he died...

It was a day like every other
Yet it wasn’t like any other day
Death came knocking on the door
Not subtly but with a big bang

She was at that place
between sleep and consciousness
The first thing she heard was
My brother is dead!
Her eyes flew open
yet she thought it was a dream

The woman cried inconsolably
“Who will take care of my daughter”
“Who will take care of my daughter”
It was a pitiful sight
But alas it didn’t require pity
For the mask of piety and selflessness
unceremonious fell off
And the naked face of her was revealed
For the brother  was not without seed
And she was not a wife but a sister

She looked at her and for the first time
Not with tainted glasses
For although she was greatly grieved
She couldn’t help but wonder at such comedy
How can she cry, when she is so alive?
And his children, orphans all of a sudden

It would have been a celebration
If the faces where a little less sorrowful
And the music a little less solemn
if he wasn’t lying in the middle in his Sunday best

She pranced around while everyone looked on
Her sorrow was palpable
not for who she lost but what she lost
And as she also looked at her
She knew not to ever trust the human face
 it is a mask above all others