Days of The Dead


Ed: 17 November 2013

I did fear to speak of Death

In this Time of Dying

Though needs must


Turning inward

The world dies outward

Leaves curl and crumble


Brother Ian, Samhain Eve

Highland Ancestors awaiting

Pipes playing


He spoke of beings in white

But they had always been his guides


Four years on

Mother Florence followed

Him through


She said: ‘It is hard, this dying’

But then she had a lust for life


The Bright Portal

In a dark November

Now, another four



I count them out

As they leave us


Lucia of Avalon taking her leonine flame


Lady Olivia, Wonder Woman for The Goddess


And today, as the sun rose

Bright Soul of the Golden Notebook

Our Nobel Goddess Doris


Who said all women were feminists,

But she would, wouldn’t she?


I do fear to talk of Death

Though ageing assures

More must follow



In Syria and the Philippines

Death is a Way of Life


I wondered about

Death Having No Dominion

No platitudes suffice, no poetic easy ending


When friends die

It hurts

We die a little more


It doesn’t matter how many die

Before or after us

But I count them through


That Bright Gate on The Beach

In India, years ago, whence

I returned, alive, with more to do


Methought an angel stood

Barring the way

My daughter’s face called me back


These are The Days for The Dead

Remember to remember

It is the Only Way Through


But fear to talk of Death

It is

A wise undertaking


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