When I Am Laid In Earth, at Highgate

“When I am laid in earth

may my wrongs create

no trouble in thy breast.”

In the silence of dappled light,

the endless dead press against me,

lithe and soft-footed as hungry cats

at dinnertime.

Each headstone a mnemonic of life.

Some clearly written on stern granite:

father, mother, beloved son, wife, only brother

born and died and, often, some poignant detail

of how their measured time was spent.

Other engravings worn by the years

have liberated their owners from

the rigid boxes where life trapped them.

The coffin and the ravages of weather

finally set them free.

If ever in a moment of elation

or in the grip of carnal delight

I escaped the sentinel of mortality,

here in Highgate no longer.

Everywhere is evidence of

the inevitable end of our stories.

And if, in a flight of lightness

I fancied myself pure spirit,

here is proof of the lie;

If I denied my body, or some

forgotten lover refused it,

it will matter very little.

The hungry ivy will cover me,

The blind and questing roots

embrace me in slow, damp arms.

The earth will devour me,

with loving equanimity.

(title & quote taken from the opera ‘Dido and Aeneas’ by Purcell. Sung by Jessye Norman)