PhilipJohnston.com :: Poetry :: Requiem for an Ulsterman

A loss, another step in the timeless march of generations,
Translated from one weary, crippled world to peace and painlessness
On a bier of tears, many for joy.
No bitterness in this parting - our last, to be selaed
With the clay of this land you called your own.
Your footprints remain, the tracks you cast a pointer to your grandchildren.
A proud, humble man.
Sweet memories, images from the past, will outlive the passing of one so loved.
No wooden stick to bear the weightless years of time,
Forest walks, fireside talks and the memory of your beliefs.
A lifetime which has shaped mine, with its share of pain and too much blood spilt.
Four stone emblazoned words define your lifetime’s hold on me;
And as an epitaph, for me,
" It is a great thing to do a little thing well."