Sometimes I have wanted

to throw you off

like a heavy coat.

Sometimes I have said

you would not let me

breathe or move.

But now that I am free

to choose light clothes

or none at all

I feel the cold

and all the time I think

how warm it used to be.

Vicki Feaver (1943–)

‘The rooms and days we wandered through’

The rooms and days we wandered through

Shrink in my mind to one – there you

Lie quite absorbed by peace – the calm

Which life could not provide is balm

In death. Unseen by me, you look

Past bed and stairs and half-read book

Eternally upon your home,

The end of pain, the left alone.

I have no friend, or intercessor,

No psychopomp or true confessor

But only you who know my heart

In every cramped and devious part –

Then take my hand and lead me out,

The sky is overcast by doubt,

The time has come, I listen for

Your words of comfort at the door,

O guide me through the shoals of fear –

‘Fürchte dich nicht, ich bin bei dir.’

From An Exequy, Peter Porter (1929–)

The Friend

In a circle of friends, the one who dies first

is the friend you will never forget:

this is the death that unhinges you

from the trappings of everyday life

and makes you – suddenly – absurdly grateful

for each new breath – beginning with this one.

This is the death that could break you apart

in every way possible; that persuades you –

in memory of that friend – to turn away

from whatever refuses to speak to your heart

from whatever threatens to numb your soul

from whatever it is that revels in death.

Yet this, too, is the friend you need by your side.

Listen. Together they urge you: Live your life.

Alice Kavounas (1945–)

‘You can shed tears that she is gone’

You can shed tears that she is gone
or you can smile because she has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that she’ll come back
or you can open your eyes and see all she’s left.

Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her
or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember her and only that she’s gone
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
or you can do what she’d want: smile, open your eyes
love and go on.

Anon.

Inside Our Dreams

Where do people go to when they die?

Somewhere down below or in the sky?

‘I can’t be sure,’ said Grandad, ‘but it seems

They simply set up home inside our dreams.’

Jeanne Willis (1959–)

Traditional Gaelic Blessing