Do the dead call?
If they did, could we hear?
Would the voice be from afar?
Or would it seem quite near?
Would we listen with our minds?
Or would we run in fear?
Would we open to the chance?
Or would we jump and swoon?
Would we think it summer breeze?
Or howling at the Moon?
Do the dead call?
You tell me.
I wonder if you know.
Do they call on summer days?
Or whisper in the snow?
You tell me.
I’d really like to know.
I was honored to have this poem selected for inclusion during NPR’s National Poetry Month.
The poem opens Chapter 31 in the 5th Century Celtic novel, “Mystery Of The Death Hearth”, as the intrepid protagonist–a young Celt magistrate–must work with those whose ways are alien to his Elder Faith beliefs. Along the way, he must find an elusive young Celt girl and her missing grandfather, unravel the mystery of an Elder’s runevision, and avoid death at the hands of an assassin as he faces the greatest challenge of his life.
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Congratulations!
Thank you!
Thank you!
Congratulations 🎊 Anita
Thank you, Anita!
Congratulations!
Thank you!
Nice! Congratulations.
Thank you!
Nice work!
I don’t know about if the dead call, but here’s a (true) story I wrote about “calling from a coma”, about 12years ago.
https://my2ndheartbeat.wordpress.com/2011/12/22/calling-from-a-coma/
Thank you, DAP! Eerie!
Jack, what an honor. Congrats. NPR! Lovely poem. I especially like the line ‘do the dead call.’ Rather haunting.
Thank you, Paula!
Congrats! And yes, they do. Not often or for long, but indeed they do.
Thank you, Phil.
Beautiful work
Thank you, Armann and Kaymann!
You are very welcome!
It’s a really nice piece!
Thank you, Mia!