When Upon A Certain Age

 When upon a certain age,
We collect a legion of 
Our dead, who accompany 
The balance of our journey,

There are those whose own Legions are recalled with Nearly, or perhaps truly, Unbearable griefs.

Those who have witnessed What the rest of us would not Even want to imagine in Passing. And for those

Mourners, we might offer, As best we can, some Failing comfort spiced With tempered pity.

Then there are those who, At that same certain age, Are unaccompanied, having Neither exerted effort

Nor energy to marshal The necessary legions that Weave into our other exertions Texture and depth.

And to them, we offer A pity they would neither Accept nor understand, thinking The escape from grief sufficient.

And the rest of us, when we Memorialize and recite The appropriate devotions, when We remember the friends,

Grandparents, parents, aunts, Uncles, cousins, spouses, Siblings, and, if burdened, In a manner uncommon in our Comfortable and satiated age, Unlike previous generations,

With the grief of lost offspring, We are still accompanied by the legions That we were glad to have As life companions. Grieving, And we hope unpitied, We welcomed those comrades then And are glad for those comrades, Our legions, Now.