MOURNERS ARE NOT MOURNERS

By Mide Benedict 

In the company of mourners
Not all who mourn mourn.
Amidst the thousand tears that fall
Not all tears speak the truthful thought.
They all gather to sympathize
Rolling words on your carpet of pain
Petting you with their lips of saw,
They pretend to heal your pain
While in turn cause disdain.
They are the mourners of laughter
They are the mourners of vainess.

In the mist of mourning sighs,
The red seas pour out to weep and cry
But not all the waters are red
Not all the weepers really weep.

They tear their cloths and fall to ground
They ask the grave not to sleep
Or doze,
But to look back at the folks he leaves
But with their hands they blind the grave,
With their thoughts they Murder the dead.
They only say that to please the eyes,
But to truly weep, their hearts
Are shut.

The preacher speaks the words of saints
They respond with the response of peace.
Amen! They say, peace
To you, they all portray
But their hearts lip-twist
To your standing plight.

Oh Lord, you know the truth
Oh Lord, you know those who truly pray
You know every heart
And what they say,
For Not all who say amen say amen
For not all who pray truly pray.

Woe to the ears, for hindering us
From hearing all cries of men
To know which voice is just and true
To know that, which is lost and dead.

Woe to eyes that nail our sights
From seeing the hearts that truly care.
And sighting those who truly say bless you.

Woe to the nose, that hinders us
From sniffing those
Who are drunk with the evil dose:

For in the company of mourners, I say
Not all those who mourn truly mourn.
In the mist of tears, I say,
Not all those tears truly care