under the lych-gate shall I pass

before the wait in holding hands

for the robed man of God to steer

me to my resting days

 

and shall I then be added to

the sanded brick of grotesque face

that stares across the standing stones

to look beyond the yew

 

and those who sidle in the rain

with shoulders loaded down with strife

will keep their head and eye to ground

and unaware of mine

 

then as I learn such higher ways

and freedom casts me from its stone

so will I then bargain forth

and leave the world behind

 

now in the realm I find myself

among ancestral light and warmth

the pain and heaviness has gone

and I begin to shine

 

then glow do I a little more

in understanding what has been

while bathed in voice of honey tone

and stole for my return