The Afterlife - some Happy Hunting Ground?
Or Jesus, virgins, merging flesh and breath?
Or god of your own world, white-robed and crowned?
Or ghost? Rebirth? Just, please, no final death!
The sparrow through the Saxon hall at night -
Brief light and warmth, then cold obscurity.
Is this our life? But yet the bird in flight
lived in the dark, both pre and post. Do we?
Frogs, living in a buried water tank,
spend all their time in darkness. Then the lid
is lifted and sun shines into the dank –
lid down, light gone... but they live on, though hid.
We work and play throughout our brief day’s sun –
Day raises many questions - night, just one.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Robin Helweg-Larsen
would be pleased to hear them.