This mediator of death's firm hold
Like our shadows always there
To try to curtail the suffering
With humility and tender care
They ask me, what about so-and-so
I must tell them, they are dead
But with kindness, not insensitivity
Watching every word I said
They ask me, will I die, or even when
Like an angel of death I reply
Some will not, others know
To their inquiries, I sincerely comply
Heartbreaking moments slap me down
Like a still born infant, such a travesty
Helplessness when someone is told
That there is known remedy
That sucks, it's true, part of the job
Others, they will often say
They don't care, they distance selves
Living in a numbed, callused way
All the years, and they come and go
Some making profound impressions
Still at it, still stumbling so
Hearing their pleas, their confessions
There are no hardened lessons
For a soul to learn this you surely see
But someone has to do it
And that's why it must be me