The funeral of a dear friend.

[darkshadow]

MIST AND LILIES.

MIST IS GATHERING IN THE GRAND SCHEME.

STONES, GREY BENEATH MY FEET,

BETRAY MY STEP, HEAVY AS MY HEART,

TOO HEAVY WHEN THE SILENCE OF THE DEAD

IS RECKONED.

CHARCOAL SKY DESCENDS ON SACRED STONE,

AND, AS I NEAR THE PORTAL,

FACES, GREY AS MINE, REFLECT MY PAIN.

SIDE BY SIDE THE MOURNERS SIT

ROW ON SOMBRE ROW,

FROM WHERE I HIDE MY EYES,

TO WHERE THE MUSIC SWELLS,

INTRUDING ON MY MEDITATION.

PAST AND PRESENT MERGE BENEATH

MY LOWERED LIDS. A FACE APPEARS,

A FACE I KNEW THAT HAD THE P0WER

TO CRYSTALISE A DIAMOND MOMENT

AND DRAW IT, SPARKLING, FROM

FROM THE DROSS OF TIME.

A PAIR OF DOVE-GREY EYES CONVEY TO ME

A TRUTH THAT I MUST LEARN.

LOUDER THAN THE DISTANT HYMN

THE MESSAGE THAT THEY BRING,

MORE PENETRATING THAN THE PRAYER

I HEAR AFAR, PERFORMED IN

PIOUS PLATITUDES.

DRAW BACK, MY FRIEND, FROM THAT DARK CAVE

WHERE GRIEF AND MELANCHOLY NURTURE

LAMPLIGHT DAYS.

IN MISTY MOOD YOU LINGER, LOST AND LONE,

AND PETALS FORM BEFORE YOUR EYES,

YET LEAVE THE FLOWER UNSEEN.

FOR WE HAD DAYS TOGETHER, YOU AND I,

DISTILLED DROPS OF DAYS

WHEN KINDRED SPIRITS TALKED,

WHEN SOUL-MATES LAUGHED AS ONE

AND PONDERED ON THE PLAITED PATHWAYS

THAT WE TROD.

BUT NOW THE WAY DIVIDES AS IN A MAZE;

OUR VISION IS OBSCURED, AND WE,

LIKE BATS AT DAWN ON HOMEWARD WING,

DO BLINDLY REACH OUT FOR

OUR FUTURE DAYS.

BUT- KNOW THAT NOTHING BREAKS

OR IS FOREVER LOST.

ALL SHALL BE WHOLE AGAIN.

THE APRIL SUNLIGHT STARTLES ME

AS GREY GIVES WAY TO BLUE.

A PLAYFUL BREEZE TORMENTS

THE LILY STEMS AND BENDS THEM

TO ITS WILL.

BUT, AS I PASS, THEY RAISE THEIR HEADS

AND WINK THEIR EYES AT ME.

SORROW MELTS; I PLUMB THE ICEBERG’S

DEPTH; I VISUALISE THE FAR SIDE OF THE MOON,.

I TOUCH AGAIN THE ESSENCE OF MY FRIEND.

THE FUNERAL OF KATHY MULRAINE.

EAST CHURCH.

23RD APRIL. 1992.

MIST AND LILIES.

MIST IS GATHERING IN THE GRAND SCHEME.

STONES, GREY BENEATH MY FEET,

BETRAY MY STEP, HEAVY AS MY HEART,

TOO HEAVY WHEN THE SILENCE OF THE DEAD

IS RECKONED.

CHARCOAL SKY DESCENDS ON SACRED STONE,

AND, AS I NEAR THE PORTAL,

FACES, GREY AS MINE, REFLECT MY PAIN.

SIDE BY SIDE THE MOURNERS SIT

ROW ON SOMBRE ROW,

FROM WHERE I HIDE MY EYES,

TO WHERE THE MUSIC SWELLS,

INTRUDING ON MY MEDITATION.

PAST AND PRESENT MERGE BENEATH

MY LOWERED LIDS. A FACE APPEARS,

A FACE I KNEW THAT HAD THE P0WER

TO CRYSTALISE A DIAMOND MOMENT

AND DRAW IT, SPARKLING, FROM

FROM THE DROSS OF TIME.

A PAIR OF DOVE-GREY EYES CONVEY TO ME

A TRUTH THAT I MUST LEARN.

LOUDER THAN THE DISTANT HYMN

THE MESSAGE THAT THEY BRING,

MORE PENETRATING THAN THE PRAYER

I HEAR AFAR, PERFORMED IN

PIOUS PLATITUDES.

DRAW BACK, MY FRIEND, FROM THAT DARK CAVE

WHERE GRIEF AND MELANCHOLY NURTURE

LAMPLIGHT DAYS.

IN MISTY MOOD YOU LINGER, LOST AND LONE,

AND PETALS FORM BEFORE YOUR EYES,

YET LEAVE THE FLOWER UNSEEN.

FOR WE HAD DAYS TOGETHER, YOU AND I,

DISTILLED DROPS OF DAYS

WHEN KINDRED SPIRITS TALKED,

WHEN SOUL-MATES LAUGHED AS ONE

AND PONDERED ON THE PLAITED PATHWAYS

THAT WE TROD.

BUT NOW THE WAY DIVIDES AS IN A MAZE;

OUR VISION IS OBSCURED, AND WE,

LIKE BATS AT DAWN ON HOMEWARD WING,

DO BLINDLY REACH OUT FOR

OUR FUTURE DAYS.

BUT- KNOW THAT NOTHING BREAKS

OR IS FOREVER LOST.

ALL SHALL BE WHOLE AGAIN.

THE APRIL SUNLIGHT STARTLES ME

AS GREY GIVES WAY TO BLUE.

A PLAYFUL BREEZE TORMENTS

THE LILY STEMS AND BENDS THEM

TO ITS WILL.

BUT, AS I PASS, THEY RAISE THEIR HEADS

AND WINK THEIR EYES AT ME.

SORROW MELTS; I PLUMB THE ICEBERG’S

DEPTH; I VISUALISE THE FAR SIDE OF THE MOON,.

I TOUCH AGAIN THE ESSENCE OF MY FRIEND.

THE FUNERAL OF KATHY MULRAINE.

EAST CHURCH.

23RD APRIL. 1992.

[darkshadow]

Sorry-I didn't mean topost this poem twice!!

[Stilltrying_]

Amazing poetry darkshadow.

Thank you for sharing. x Please see my comment on the others. This is a truly wonderful poem. It is so deeply moving and expressive. Have just edited it a bit at your request (see below )

[Stilltrying_ in reply to Stilltrying_]

Mist and lillies ( Funeral of a dear friend)

Mist is gathering in the grand scheme.

Stones, grey beneath my feet,

Betray my step, heavy as my heart,

Too heavy when the silence of the dead

is reckoned.

Charcoal sky descends on sacred stone,

and, as i near the portal,

Faces, grey as mine, reflect my pain.

Side by side the mourners sit

Row on sombre row,

From where i hide my eyes,

to where the music swells,

intruding on my meditation.

Past and present merge beneath

my lowered lids. A face appears,

A face i knew that had the power

to crystalise a diamond moment

and draw it, sparkling, from

from the dross of time.

A pair of dove-grey eyes convey to me

A truth that i must learn.

Louder than the distant hymn

the message that they bring,

More penetrating than the prayer

i hear afar, performed in

pious platitudes.

Draw back, my friend, from that dark cave

where grief and melancholy nurture

lamplight days.

In misty mood you linger, lost and lone,

and petals form before your eyes,

Yet leave the flower unseen.

for we had days together, you and i,

distilled drops of days

when kindred spirits talked,

When soul-mates laughed as one

and pondered on the plaited pathways

that we trod.

But now the way divides as in a maze;

our vision is obscured, and we,

like bats at dawn on homeward wing,

do blindly reach out for

our future days.

but- know that nothing breaks

or is forever lost.

All shall be whole again.

The april sunlight startles me

as grey gives way to blue.

A playful breeze torments

the lily stems and bends them

to its will.

But, as i pass, they raise their heads

and wink their eyes at me.

Sorrow melts; i plumb the iceberg’s

depth; I visualise the far side of the moon,.

I touch again the essence of my friend.

The funeral of kathy mulraine.

east church.

23rd april. 1992.

"Edited by Still trying".