Farewell you northern hills, you mountains all goodbye
Moorlands and stony ridges, crags and peaks goodbye
Glyder Fach farewell, cold big Scafell, cloud bearing Suilven
Sun warmed rocks and the cold of Bleaklow's frozen sea
The snow and the wind and the rain of hills and mountains
Days in the sun and the tempered wind and the air like wine
And you drink and you drink till you’re drunk on the joy of living
Farewell to you my love, my time is almost done
Lie in my arms once more until the darkness comes
You filled all my days, held the night at bay, dearest companion
Years pass by and they're gone with the speed of birds in flight
Our lives like the verse of a song heard in the mountains
Give me your hand and love and join your voice with mine
And we'll sing of the hurt and the pain and the joy of living
Farewell to you my chicks, soon you must fly alone
Flesh of my flesh, my future life, bone of my bone
May your wings be strong, may your days be long, safe be your journey
Each of you bears inside of you the gift of love
May it bring you light and warmth and the pleasure of giving
Eagerly savour each new day and the taste of its mouth
Never lose sight of the thrill and the joy of living
Take me to some high place of heather, rock and ling
Scatter my dust and ashes, feed me to the wind
So that I may be part of all you see, the air you are breathing
I'll be part of the curlew's cry and the soaring hawk
The blue milkwort and the sundew hung with diamonds
I'll be riding the gentle breeze as it blows through your hair
Reminding you how we shared in the joy of living
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
JCM 23/04/82 - 13/13/07
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5 comments:
Hope you're doing ok.
xoxoxoxo
Amanda - thanks, we just got back from the funeral.
That's a wonderful poem, who wrote it? I keep reading it over and over.
I'm so sorry about your friend. F*cking cancer. I hope the funeral helped you to figure things out. I was in America when my 23 year old friend died (I was 23, too) and it took me a while to come to terms with her death, having missed that ceremony. Some sort of ritual is essential, I think.
Trish - it's actually a song, I heard the Rory Mcleod version when we saw him live, he was saying how he played it for a fan that had passed away. I listened to it a fair bit over the last few days, the lines about the joys of living, the drinking till you're drunk on it. Those are the main parts that really make me think of him, but also about how he won't have the life with someone, or the children. If you can get a copy of the song, it's really lovely.
23 would have been even harder, particularly not being able to attend the funeral - I'm sorry for your loss.
Thanks, I'll see if I can find it somewhere.
Yes, it was tough. But thirteen years later I have stopped thinking about her death altogether and now just remember her in terms of her wonderful, albeit brief, life.
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