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| Pauline Reynolds-Barff |
a womb of grey up the path to St Bridget’s
brilliant wild daisies and long shining grass
fill the space between cracked and leaning tombstones
with a graveyard daisy tucked behind my ear
I inhale a thousand years gone to dust
I want to lay down amongst the old graves
cross the divide of time and comfort my ancestors
they are lingering entranced that I have come
no one pulls the weeds here nature is having her way
pushing life between the cracks of stone
the cobbled entrance delivers me
into the church where there is more light inside than outside
the stain glass windows throw coloured patterns on the curved interior
I feel warm blessed loved embraced renewed reborn
I slip in and out of time sitting where they once sat
dealing with their sorrows and prayers
widowed Anne
mourning the shameful loss of property and son
finding solace and peace right here
I notice fruit laid out on the stonework
spotted green apples freshly dug carrots sprawling cabbages
decorate any available ledge
the ladies are preparing for the Harvest Feast
softly laughing all the while quietly embracing my presence
chatting in soft bubbling sounds and flat vowels
their warm voices captivate me
‘Pleased to meet cha’ smiling genuine goodness
explaining ‘It’s all fe the glory of God’
(and to repair a thousand years of
rising damp rotting beams and faded paint)
‘Shame you can’t stay fe the Feast orn Monday’
after tomorrow’s service and after everyone has given coins
they will take what they need no more
‘You must sign our visitor’s book then’
and I do I’m a visitor I don’t belong but I do
I wonder at the utter beauty of it all
on the outside stones and flora tangle
around themselves reshaping the other
on the inside voices of the past and present
wrap themselves around each other
A living breathing chatting smiling Church
where a stone Unicorn
watches them bow their heads
and meditate on their troubles and trials
and give thanks for the joys in their lives
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