The dead never die,
They murmur, deep in the bone,
Coursing in the blood,
Touching the grass, the hills,
With immortal fingers.
A ring of trees, a hollow crown,
A hillside beneath the moon,
Stars string a diadem,
Wind pipes a symphony among the reeds,
To restless waves, rising with eternal tides.
Embers lie hidden beneath the green sod,
Burning slow but burning bright,
Like freedom and humanity,
Like all our dead, who will never die.
4 thoughts on “Song for the dead”
Wonderfully written, Jane. You paint an engrossing picture of ‘eternal tides’ and human values that will never die.
Thank you, Olga. That’s how I hope it will be. There’s no way of knowing, but I I like to believe that nothing is lost or wasted, everything lives on somewhere.
I dont think anything can be ‘un-made’, it is just changed, transformed. So also with life and death.
Beautiful vibrant imagery in this poem, Jane.
Thanks Ali. Maybe it’s a mark of lack of sophistication, but I really can’t get my head around the idea that we leave nothing behind when we die.