For Brian Munro, 1968-2014
How are you feeling today, my friend?
“Pretty shit”, you said
And how do you feel at another year’s end?
“Now I feel nothing – I’m dead”
You said you’d be molecules when you’re gone
To the earth and the sky wide and far
You left us your words and your memory fires on
Your loved ones just look to the stars
You’re with us on picket lines, like Joe Hill
You’re there on the road that we tread
You’re there in the branch and the workplace still
“Get out and organise”, you said
Your life was the march towards a brighter light
From your youth to your hospice bed
You’ve passed us the gloves to keep up the fight
“Don’t fuck it up”, you said
Read books, practise instruments, use what you’re taught
Live your full life while you can
For here lies a man whose life was too short
Here lies a red-hearted man
Here lies a gardener, a diner, a cook
Here lies a travelling fan
A father, a lover – of a wine and a book
Yes, here lies a red-hearted man
