POEM: For JRR Tolkien

I would like to think, professor, that at your death

You found yourself in the woods: Not a dark wood 

Like Dante’s, but a deep wood, a green wood, 

Like Fangorn, like Mirkwood before the shadow.

And in this wood shone a light that passed in long beams 

Like kindly fingers between the slim and the girthy trunks, 

Parting the shadows and leading you forward 

On the path to the heart of the wood; and 

You followed this light with quickening footsteps 

And quickened heart, seeing it grow brighter 

And brighter until at last you saw, in a fair clearing, 

Those Trees of silver and gold that had grown 

In your imagination, that undying land, and beneath 

Their fragrant boughs awaited your own Luthien, 

And the true Varda, daughter of earth and Queen of Heaven, 

To show you the One who had created you to be a creator.

(On the anniversary of his death)