Glasnevin
I love to walk on bumpy grass amongst the silent dead.
Be near the calmness of their stony graves
Within the quietude of death.
I like to hear the stillness of their hearts
Beneath the hanging boughs of Beech and Oak
And see the weathered angels over them….
The dead have never feared the dark.
The soul that lies beneath the unmarked stone
Will have the same as labelled men.
There is no meaning in a name … or mortal fame…
No gender inequality …when dead .
Perhaps …for some
Life was more hard than death
More cruel than the grave ?
The dead do not complain.
They’ve left us far behind.
Have crossed the line
Into another zone
Where bones entangle
with the weeds and living roots…
And where I feel at home
Kristine Byrne 6th Nov.2014