Churchyard Survey (Poetry)

I understand why you would like it here —
the reasons you’d feel happy and at rest
with all these trees grown tall as sentinels
to guard the calm with which this place is blessed.

Instinctively, you know the seasons have
dominion over soil and stone and leaf
so years turn smoothly without fuss or fret —
the wild-grown grass above, the dead beneath...

Still close, yet the location’s set apart —
secluded — the intrusive world at bay
except for ritual observances
few people ever chance to come this way.

But it’s not lonely — there’s the company
of blackbirds, robins, thrushes visiting
along with furtive creatures — hardly seen
and whispers that a passing breeze might bring.

The loudest voice that sounds, the ancient bell
summoning the faithful from afar
and sometimes bursts of singing echo through
like benediction touching where you are.

For any soul who seeks tranquility
would judge themselves rewarded in this spot —
to be as dust in sunlight — free at last
remembering the living — who are not.