The Sanctum of Sanity

For a Friend Buried at Saint Mary’s Churchyard Hawkesbury

                                                           

                                                           Spring has arrived here again;

                       Growing its colours across

                       The quilted countries of your truth,

                       Finding in each waxing moment

                       Fresh fertility, to form anew

                       The atlas of familiar fields.

                       Fields, where you had grown,

                       Enduring many seasons of time’s pulse.

                       Learning as you grew,

                       That even here, where in the mist

                       Of last November’s thin grey rain

                       We left your winter mound unmade

                       Spring would return; to conjour

                       From your fading flesh

                       The irony of birth.

                       Growing from your final bed

                       The transmuted beauty

                       Of posthumous flowers.

                       © James Rainsford 2010