Song for the dead


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.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

4 thoughts on “Song for the dead”

  1. 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.

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