A Once Holy Spot (Poetry)
30th October 2016
If there was a swell of genuine anger once
it very soon faded to
a sort of embarrassed shrugging —
some vague uncomfortable acceptance
there was nothing more anyone could do ...
The petition was ignored
like so many before it
and countless others since
for (and here’s the bottom line)
despite page on page of signatures
and miles of wasted ink
there’s no one cares a jot
for what local people think.
The fact was simple:
the church stood squarely in the way
of town development
and some interested party making
a healthy profit for themselves.
No matter that it was
a consecrated spot —
so what?
It was an obstacle to progress.
The church authorities proved to be
a righteous pushover
their Judas minds already counting
the addition to their coffers
dismissing protests on the grounds
of falling congregations.
Besides, the brokers of the deal
were offering a new church —
soulless brick and all mod cons
on the edge of town.
What more could any Sunday Christian
possibly ask for?
No thought for those who’d laboured
on the old church —
stonemasons, carpenters, sculptors
designers of stained glass — their work
brought down in clouds of dust.
Tough luck on local families
and their histories tied to christenings
marriages and funerals
ancestral bones in the graveyard
suddenly no longer sacred to the memory
but unceremoniously disturbed
their plots sold off
to the highest bidder.
Whoever drove the bulldozer maybe
felt an uneasy pang or two
of trepidation ...
It would be interesting to know
how life has treated them
since the time they trashed God’s house.
Bad luck could translate as pay back
for desecration after all.
They left the redundant spire as though
such a gesture might be seen
as anything but a travesty
(so out of place beside some chunk
of vulgar architecture — money made).
A dislocated gravestone it marks
its own once holy spot
very few still grieve for or remember
the pity of it thinned to an awkward half-hearted
and passing regret ...
In spite of all the initial fuss
it happened anyway
as many knew it would
aware how soon the too-busy world moves on
and even the staunchest protestors do
eventually forget.
it very soon faded to
a sort of embarrassed shrugging —
some vague uncomfortable acceptance
there was nothing more anyone could do ...
The petition was ignored
like so many before it
and countless others since
for (and here’s the bottom line)
despite page on page of signatures
and miles of wasted ink
there’s no one cares a jot
for what local people think.
The fact was simple:
the church stood squarely in the way
of town development
and some interested party making
a healthy profit for themselves.
No matter that it was
a consecrated spot —
so what?
It was an obstacle to progress.
The church authorities proved to be
a righteous pushover
their Judas minds already counting
the addition to their coffers
dismissing protests on the grounds
of falling congregations.
Besides, the brokers of the deal
were offering a new church —
soulless brick and all mod cons
on the edge of town.
What more could any Sunday Christian
possibly ask for?
No thought for those who’d laboured
on the old church —
stonemasons, carpenters, sculptors
designers of stained glass — their work
brought down in clouds of dust.
Tough luck on local families
and their histories tied to christenings
marriages and funerals
ancestral bones in the graveyard
suddenly no longer sacred to the memory
but unceremoniously disturbed
their plots sold off
to the highest bidder.
Whoever drove the bulldozer maybe
felt an uneasy pang or two
of trepidation ...
It would be interesting to know
how life has treated them
since the time they trashed God’s house.
Bad luck could translate as pay back
for desecration after all.
They left the redundant spire as though
such a gesture might be seen
as anything but a travesty
(so out of place beside some chunk
of vulgar architecture — money made).
A dislocated gravestone it marks
its own once holy spot
very few still grieve for or remember
the pity of it thinned to an awkward half-hearted
and passing regret ...
In spite of all the initial fuss
it happened anyway
as many knew it would
aware how soon the too-busy world moves on
and even the staunchest protestors do
eventually forget.