How to Choose Funeral Readings and Poems

Finding the right words for a funeral is a strange kind of searching. You want something that says everything, and most of what you find says almost, but not quite. You're looking for language big enough to hold a whole person, and very little of it is.

A good reading takes some of that weight off you. It's someone else's words, lent to you for a few minutes, saying the thing you feel but can't quite shape yourself. Here's how to find one that fits.

Start with them, not with a list

It's tempting to open a "top funeral poems" page and pick from the top. But the reading that lands in the room is almost always the one chosen for the person, not the occasion.

So before you read a single poem, sit with a few questions. Were they gentle or full of mischief? Did they have faith, or find their meaning elsewhere? Would they have rolled their eyes at something too solemn, or been quietly moved by it? The answers point you toward the right tone far quicker than any list will. A reading that suits a devout grandmother is rarely the one that suits a larrikin uncle, and that's exactly as it should be.

How many, and who reads

Most services have one or two readings, sometimes three for a longer service. More than that and they start to blur into one another, and the people listening lose the thread. A couple of well-chosen pieces will always do more than a long string of them.

As for who reads, choose someone who can hold their voice steady, or who doesn't mind if they can't. There's nothing wrong with a reader who pauses to gather themselves. It's often the most moving moment of the whole service. If nobody in the family feels able, your celebrant or minister will read beautifully, and that's a completely normal thing to ask.

The well-loved readings, and what suits them

These are the pieces families return to again and again. I won't print them in full here, partly because many are still under copyright, but mostly because they're easy to find online or your celebrant will have them. Instead, here's what each one tends to suit, so you can go looking in the right direction.

For gentle comfort "Death Is Nothing At All" by Henry Scott Holland is warm and reassuring, written as though the person has only slipped into the next room. "Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep" by Mary Elizabeth Frye imagines them living on in the wind, the snow, the birds, and suits anyone who loved the outdoors.

For celebrating a life well lived "Remember Me" and similar pieces that give the living permission to smile again work well when the mood is more grateful than sorrowful. "She Is Gone" (also known as "He Is Gone") by David Harkins, read at the Queen Mother's funeral, gently asks us to choose remembering over mourning.

For a big personality "Warning" by Jenny Joseph, the one that begins with an old woman deciding to wear purple, is perfect for someone who lived on their own terms and made everyone laugh doing it.

For raw, honest grief "Funeral Blues" by W. H. Auden, the "stop all the clocks" poem, doesn't tidy grief up or make it pretty. Sometimes that honesty is exactly what a room needs.

For faith-based services Psalm 23 ("The Lord is my shepherd"), 1 Corinthians 13 ("love is patient, love is kind"), and Ecclesiastes 3 ("a time for everything") are the readings most families reach for, and they carry a comfort that comes partly from their familiarity.

On writing your own

Please don't rule this out because you're "not a writer." Some of the most moving readings I've ever seen at a service were written at a kitchen table by someone who insisted they couldn't write.

You don't need it to rhyme or sound grand. A short, plain letter to the person, or a handful of memories strung together, will move a room more than any famous poem, because it's true and it's theirs. Write the way you'd talk to them. Read it aloud once or twice to smooth the bumps. That's genuinely all it takes.

A few practical things

Keep each reading to a comfortable length. Anything past a couple of minutes spoken aloud starts to feel long, however lovely it is on the page.

Give your reader the words printed clearly and large, on their own sheet, not buried in a phone. Nerves and small text are a hard combination in an emotional moment.

And if the reading matters to the family, it belongs in the booklet too, printed in full, so people can follow along and take the words home afterward. That's one of the quiet gifts of an order of service. The reading doesn't end when the reader sits down.

When nothing feels quite right

If you've looked and looked and nothing fits, that's okay, and it's more common than you'd think. Sometimes the answer isn't a famous poem at all, but a line from a song they loved, a saying they always used, or a few sentences you write yourself. The right words don't have to be well-known. They just have to be true to the person you're remembering.

If you'd like a hand laying a reading out beautifully in the booklet, or you're just not sure what fits, that part I'm always happy to help with. You don't have to find the perfect words on your own.