Path

For Ian Clark † December 2024

Death is a sort of beheading
That shakes the body from our soul
The light of life now leading
To an unlit and uncertain goal

A new day is at once arisen
Like a newborn's first breath of air
Whose eyes invigilate the prism
Of the first sun above them there

And as their hands reach up to clutch
That burning sphere so far away
They soon learn that they cannot touch
The force and cause of light and day

Much like that child is how we go,
Led to the steps. But who is leading?
We try to see beyond the stars
Where light is life as memory is fading

Within the sky we see the pictures there
These painted bears and ploughs and bows
Drawn with due diligence and high care
In a way our souls shine with those

Death is a sort of endless treading
Into a new and secret place
Where each step, its echo fading,
Leaves a cry, a sigh, a trace