Poem: A bird in a graveyard

High up above I watch them,
Knelt on the ground below,
Some in calm and peacefulness,
Some with faces filled with woe.

Some stand in thoughtful silence,
Some speak their thoughts aloud,
Some laugh and smile for what once was,
Some weep with their head bowed.
Some stand still as though time exists not,
Some lay their flowers and clear the rot.

I see it all high up above,
But they are untouched; not noticing of my love.
Those who walk the ground below,
Cannot discern the things I know,
And I, for my part too,
Have no ability to tell or show.
I see them but cannot draw near,
I cannot wipe away their tear,
I can but hope that in some moment,
They take note that I am here.
In that place where they mourn the sorrow of death,
My song is life’s most tender breath.
For no matter what has ceased to be,
I will still sing sweetly in my tree.