Strange to see them all, suddenly no more.

Yesterday they had thoughts. Fear, certainly,

But perhaps still hopes, wishes, even dreams.

Now they are defined by their strange absence;

Lying here, but not being here. It’s odd.

Some had warnings, time to prepare, for sure;

To visit the priest and forgotten mates,

Or spent years flat out and bombed up on drips.

For others, it came from just around the corner;

No chance to say goodbye or tell the boss,

Give a nod to the neighbours, settle bills.

Everything: knowledge, emotions, secrets,

Every fact they had known and remembered,

Has gone with them somewhere, maybe nowhere.

Like diaries burned, or a slate wiped clean.