Dragons' Dirge
Lay her down upon the bier, think of what she was,
Gently, by the love you bore her, render her her due.
Terror to those who dared cross her, yet so loving, too.
Now she lairs within our minds, and not without just cause-
Dragons, mourn a dragon, for we all are poorer now.
Once those shuttered eyes flashed flaming, regal, without fear.
At her roar the rest stopped talking, waiting on her words.
Once those wings thrust through the clouds, beyond the strength of birds.
And to those she loved and nurtured, she was warm and dear.
Dragons, mourn a dragon, for we all are poorer now.
Lost now is her hoard of wisdom, memories, and lore.
What is left will cause sad thoughts as often as some joy.
So much less the treasure that her death cannot destroy.
Nothing can be worse than not to see her any more.
Dragons, mourn a dragon, for we all are poorer now.
In her youth, her grace and strength and beauty drew their awe,
In her age her laughter, wit, and calm and steady mind.
Bravest when we needed courage, in a crowd she shined.
As she was, a mix more precious than one without flaw.
Dragons, mourn a dragon, for we all are poorer now.
To have seen her once in fury, wings and talons spread
Proud and fierce, her destiny alone hers to command,
Where that strength of spirit went we cannot understand.
What had such great power then cannot, in truth, be dead.
Dragons, mourn a dragon, for we all are poorer now.
Having known her we become a grieving group apart.
Others never shared in what now causes us our grief.
Hence the love and memory that prompts our shared belief
That some day again we all will know her loving heart.
Dragons, mourn a dragon, for we all are poorer-now.
© Dr. Thomas Venturer