A nation mourns,

there are queues,

queues to sign condolence books,

to lay flowers,

to mark respect…

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The there is THE QUEUE, or Q,

people drawn,

coming together, in pilgrimage,

taking photos, making friends,

connected after so much disconnection,

a catalyst for mourning, and perhaps for healing,

the losses of years, personal, and private losses,

find a focus here….

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But who is in THE QUEUE,

and who has jumped THE QUEUE?

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Protocols, expectations, uniform, invitations given and withdrawn,

here, controversy, care, doubts, fears and questions,

rub shoulders…

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We are joined and divided,

joined and divided,

we are drawn,

to stand in line,

or to watch the line from our sofas,

in quiet fascination…

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We are connected,

as these days ebb and flow,

finding ourselves held,

by our focus on one,

whose focus transcended deat,

finding a hope in life eternal,

a continuation,

a connection

to the divine….

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We are joined,

even as we are divided,

in the eternal queue

of life itself…

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