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When our tears are dry on the shore
And the fishermen carry their nets home
And the seagulls return to Bird Island
And the laughter of the children recedes at night
There shall still linger here the communion we forged
The feast of oneness which we partook of
There shall still be the eternal gateman
Who will close the cemetery doors?
And send the late mourners away.
It cannot be the music we heard that night
That still lingers in the chambers of memory.
It is the new chorus of our forgotten comrades
And the halleluiahs of our second selves.
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Ilyass Mohammed
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