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~ By Courtesy of Others ~

 

The Twelfth Rune

I heard there is a rune
which can make the dead speak;
this verse will be my rune.

I summon them, the ancestors,
who whisper in the corridors
that stretch behind us,

darkening,
halflit by the light
of ten thousand setting suns.

Every ghost there,
in jest or in lament,
carelessly or toiling,

wrote its own line
in the long saga of song,
bringing it to me.

They sing now,
as I write, their vanished
voices guiding my pen.

© Jeremy Hirst
 

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