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
Passed
I count them out
As they leave us
Lucia of Avalon taking her leonine flame
Higher
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
Meantime
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