The Gates

“The Gates”

I would like to walk through the cemetery
To ease the sorrow in my mind.
With the dead I may make merry—
The lights their memories carry
When they leave the world behind
Are shining like candles in the grass.
Someday, I through that gate shall pass
On the day I do no longer rise
With the silver pennies on my eyes.

You were lovely in your samite
As I bore you in the night
To your final resting place—
With the moon kissing your face,
You did not struggle as you were buried
You did not sing as you were carried
To the lake where the swan dies in Heaven.
Alas! I know not if your sins were forgiven
While you bled from the heart I held in my teeth
And placed you with such care in the waters beneath.

I sit now by fire and by moonlit lore
With my eyes set upon the door.
There is footfall at the window:
A step I used to know.
The nightly visitor at last calls
While I trace the faces in the walls.
My heart is waiting for you
To take me for the last time through
The Gates before the break of day—
Have you come to take me away?

© 2022 Marten Hoyle