The hypocrisy of grief

The emperor speaks his solemn words, with sombre tone and downcast eyes
The linguistics of grief, a eulogy of young lives taken by surprise
Speaking words etched on a nations psyche, and worn upon their hearts
A tragedy, a horror, and a stain in equal parts

Seven thousand miles, and a another world away,
shroud wrapped bundles lined together, with tiny faces on display
So still these tiny chests, and cold like marble once warm skin
Lives stolen and futures torn before they can begin

A madman’s gun or falling bomb, flesh of man or steel of drone
A criteria placed on tragedy, a means test to condone
Cerebral acrobatics of semantics in attempts to justify
the difference between a school shooting and death rained from the skies

Does a parents grief differ because its born in far off lands ?
Does a heart on foreign shores beat with a different set of demands ?
Does a memory framed in other tongues forget the grip of tiny hands ?
For the heart that mourns sorrows many faces is a heart that understands