for John (Ted) Dexter
*
no cars on the road
all of the town sofa bound
food lulled and sleeping
…
walking home, a man
evensong’s slow gentle peace
on him like monks’ robes
…
old man and poet
meet in quiet communion
by the graveyard gate
…
souls of the same shade
in unspoken fellowship
watching the birds fly
…
on the bridge, silence
white blossom, silver water
Easter Sunday light
*
© Gail Foster 17th April 2017
*
softly, whispering
featherfalls on silent stone
winter, gravity
…
lost in the fog, birds
grieving morning voicelessly
remembering love
…
dead diamonds, ditches
glittering cold promises
fossil furrow froze
…
darkness, deepening
the womb and the grave hiding
secrets and shadows
…
in the ground, waiting
the souls of springs children sing
muffled lullabies
*
© Gail Foster 2016
*
Be still, can you hear the drum, the drum
Hear it beat like a heart in the heavy night
Hold on to your soul, for the dead are come
To look to the living for light
…
Ashes and sulphur, blood on stone
Lavender, lilies, and roses blown
…
Out of the mist, they come, they come
Through the slip of a stitch in the hazy veil
With their feet all bare, and their faces pale
The dead come, crying for light
…
Lavender, lilies, and roses blown
Ashes and sulphur, blood on stone
…
Out of the past they come, they come
From the shadowy halls of history
From the battlefield, and the hungry sea
The dead come, crying for light
…
Ashes and sulphur, blood on stone
Lavender, lilies, and roses blown
…
Out of the earth they come, they come
From the cold of the grave at midnight’s bell
From the harrowing heat of the fires of hell
The dead come, crying for light
…
Lavender, lilies, and roses blown
Ashes and sulphur, blood on stone
…
Out of the dark they come, they come
With their winding sheets and their cobweb hair
With their violent curses and innocent prayer
The dead come, crying for light
…
Ashes and sulphur, blood on stone
Lavender, lilies, and roses blown
…
Out of their minds they come, they come
Who are lost in the maze of space and time
Who are seeking the grace of a love sublime
The dead come, crying for light
…
Lavender, lilies, and roses blown
Ashes and sulphur, blood on stone
…
Be not a-feared when they come, they come
Be as still as you can, and touch them not
Show them the way to the light forgot
Love them, and let them be
…
Be gone
…
In to the light they go, they go
To the glow at the end of the tunnel’s gloom
To the source of the scent of the rose’s bloom
In to the light they go
*
© Gail Foster 30th October 2016
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