Funeral prayer

Through fractured wastelands of a future within living memory; through crystalline deserts where the flowers once sang; through all the empty days where echoes spin; I walked alone.

Some wayward path brought me here to where they finally let you rest. There’s a beautiful old tree. An oak. Remember the one we climbed in the back garden? Like that. And rich grass, rabbit cropped. I can smell honeysuckle.

I was not here then to say words; but I wrote them all the same. And there is no one here now to hear them. Just me and, who knows, maybe you.

i
fierce as the evening star
she lit my skies
but evening as ever
becomes the night
and she has set
gone into the west
and is lost to me
but now in the Otherworld
they rejoice
for a new morning star
has risen
a new star awakens

ii (adapted from ‘sian bhuadha’, a gaelic prayer for the release of the soul)
you go home this day
to your home of winter
to your home of autumn
of spring and of summer
you go home this day to your lasting home
to your rest of great deserving
to your sound sleeping

sleep now and so fade sorrow
sleep, my wonder, in the heart of truth

the sleep of seven lights upon you
the sleep of seven joys upon you
the sleep of seven slumbers upon you
my wonder

sleep in the quiet of quietness
sleep in the way of guidance
sleep in the heart of love
sleep, my wonder, everlasting in our hearts

iii
with thanks for her presence and the joy it brought
with love for her friendship and the strength it gave
with tears for the loss of her – a light has gone from my world