Disturbed Rooks cawing,
Settle once more in twisted branches
on a hedge-bound Oak
The church tower, a gaunt finger
pointing accusingly to
the lowering Fen skies
The apse, open to the rain
with windows stained by age
Recalls the passing of
men and seagulls
Who followed the plough
Remembers the villagers
Once so many – That their singing
Warmed the very stones
and celebrated many a Sunday
as the Parson preached
the way to live one’s life
The centrepiece of life then
but of a village no longer
Abandoned, along with the land
as the call of the factory,
the dreams of fortune,
drew the young men away
to new hard labours
Denuded of festival
as the harvest was mechanised
Horse for tractor exchanged
So now forgotten
amidst long untended graves
only those called to the anti-Christ
hold tryst here now
The church stands
A reminder of lost community
A lost way of life
De-Consecrated
Defiled
Martin Addison 02/11/2012
2e0mca.uk 
Leave a comment