If You’d Honor Me.

When but a young lad, I dreamt of Vikings Bold

Who’d die in battle’s icy cold

Or knights and Kings, and glorious trials

To which I’d rise though it took all my wiles

I grew up in the wilderness grand

Far from society’s controlling hand

Where the rule of law was naught but strength

I lived more there than in civilization I think

I fished and hunted and went my way

Through many a year by adding up day to day

I lived richer out in wildland and mountain air

More responsibility was had and found out there

Now, my days are gone; I’ve lived my all

Age has come with its final call

My life’s been spent, though yearnings remain

I’ll miss my kin and the mountains twain

Mornings of chill and the calls of bird

Lightening in the sky with thunder heard

Clear cold waters dancing away

Creatures large and small at work and play

Once I’m gone, if you’d honor me, 

Do it not in church, hall, or even city

Bring my ashes and my old worn hat

Out to the woods that’s where I’ll be at

Sit round a fire in friendship and storytelling time

Make up a yarn, sing a song, or recite a rhyme

Bake a pie, and cobbler too, 

In cast iron hot, colored blackest blue

Share some spirits, be it Mead, wine,  or grog

Park yourself for comfort against lying log

Let the flames bake my passing’s chill

Out of your breast as fire flames will

Once the flames have died to coals and ash

Spread me on the fire, which will be my last

Then drop my old worn hat on the glowing pile

That it may warm my head one last little while

Before I rejoin the elements of this earth

Those that I’ve borrowed since my day of birth

That I may repay for the wonders I’ve known

To the future of the wilds, the animals, the stone.

© Copyright 2021 Marty Vandermolen All Rights Reserved