Rest In Peace
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I
Was on a winter morn gently put
to ground, and parish leaves
wet underfoot
led to the sermon ‘neath the mount
and to its dirges inside the gates of Eden.
Where souls walk in funeral marches
betwixt its gothic
bell tower and arches
II
Through stained glass altar light
I heard a lone voice
not of my own recite
"The Lord is my shepherd…and I
will dwell in the house of the Lord forever”.
What grim woe it is so young to die
and have to say
the last long goodbye
III
There I was immobilised and weak
with no voice to sing
or words to speak,
and close as you were to touch
I could not hold you or bring you back.
To mighty God in wet cavalcade
silently for that day
to end I prayed
IV
The bells of Greyfriars in my head
tolled for the living
and tolled for the dead!
And with each loud toll I bid farewell
for I knew there would no resurrection be.
O’ how that wind and sea and sky
would my own
dark cast personify
V
Buried below is but bone and lock
in the honeycomb hills
of Schnapper Rock -
under hallowed cross in God's acre
lies a body of memory destined to live.
Here I stand on your tomb of clay
but its flowers have
all long died away
VI
Forgive my duty of care defiled
and forgive the ways
of a miscreant child.
If I had my time and yours again
I'd adore you, Mother, and be a better son.
On your death bed you spoke to me
and still those words
echo mournfully
VII
Sorrowed is the deprivation of life,
grieved is a daughter,
mother, and wife!
In my own rehearsal for death ask
what becomes the soul of redemption lost?
And what reprove you leave behind -
it is a meditation
that oft fills my mind
VIII
O’ Death has pierced your defences,
snuffed the flame
and dulled my senses.
Alas so it is and so it must be so soon
that we drink the bitter milk of mortality.
God has saved you and your fears
from this veil of sin
and vale of tears.
Written : July 1992
Copyright © Keith D Trestrail | Year Posted 2022
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