When visiting churches, cathedrals,
Reading history’s names on the floor
Stone coffins line the walls
Images of Knights with shield and sword
Their stories told, their honour served
Poets corner whispers of stories yet to tell
Those with pen in hand take up the mantle.
All these things remind me of honour passed
I greet each new day, glad to have woken
To honour the day without moaning
I feel the same about the blackbird
That wakes me in the morning
Again in the evening, telling me
To wind down, to rest.
The way sound whispers
Through the alleys as I pass
The way we forced our breath
Across an empty milk bottle
To make an eerie sound
Someone reading their work
Filling my ears with their meaning
So different from reading
Quietly by yourself.
Music to lift the broken day
All this I hold in high esteem.
Too many unsung heroes to list here
In every walk of life, past and present
Not only the dead, there are many
Living who never get a mention
The postman, the men who
Take our rubbish away,
Rain or shine, they are out there.
I think I had better shush now
And honour the silence…