Guest Author - Neville Sexton
Everything is transient. There is nothing that exists that stays the same. Life is endless motion. All things push forward whether they wish to or not – for it is the nature of all that is. Life is about progression and change and all we can do is savour every moment that comes our way, for the path we takes is unknown to us.
A couple of weeks after my son passed away I sat down to write a tribute piece for him which was to feature in the local paper before his Month’s Mind Mass. It was a memorial piece that was to capture elements of Craig and his life. But when I tried to do it I couldn’t. I sat and I cried as every memory burned in my throat and blinded me. The enormity of the pain – the stomach turning reality – was almost too much to wrestle with. So instead I found myself sitting and scribbling down a poem.
I’m not sure why, but it certainly came easier. Maybe because poetry reflects your deepest emotions more than normal prose – who knows? I don’t write poetry.
This week I just wanted to feature that poem, and leave it at that . . .
Your Life
Perched atop a chestnut sprig, swaying soft in summer’s breeze
Your breath of song escaped among the dancing living leaves
And up through dappled green and gold, a wisp unto the blue
It sang a song of sentiment, of merriment . . . of You
Of love, of cheer, of happiness of sun and season’s heat
Of scented bloom and warmest moon, a tune so light and sweet
That o’er the sound of woodland stream and hoot and caw and rush
It soared so high that heavens sighed and all just stood in hush
For your song was the sweetest song the wind had ever heard
Who carried it with rhetoric – from such a little bird?
And every ear that bent to hear the beauty of your song
Wallowed in its majesty; mellifluous and strong
But under-crush of sodden leaves; the cool and misty rain
The cloud filled skies that darkened eyes began to hint at change
And still you perched atop that sprig and sang your merry song
So all who cried, though listening out, in reverence sang along
Then quietly and gently a snow began to fall
And though it pained your reddening breast, you still let out your call
But now beyond that icy perch in still of winters freeze
Your breath of song sings ever strong – above the fallen leaves
