Good News All
by Tim Veater
We are but flames that briefly glow and then go out,
Extinguished by the tears of parting and regret.
The sad retort, “I fear I never shall”.
So life and all its memories slip away,
Into that never ending night, longed for or dreaded,
The common denominator. All the same when
All lie prostrate, before its heavenly gate.
The uncovered path still bears the marks of feet,
The remnants of a fence and timber frame.
The open space where once a proud man
With his first-born son, crouched for a photograph.
Who took it is unknown. Perhaps it was his wife?
Here for years people met and sang and prayed
And speakers came and went,
Intent on revealing eternal verities.
Missionaries to the natives here about,
Recently returned from war,
Sceptical of all they had been taught
About a loving god and man's humanity to man.
Yet faith maintained its stand
In spite of insolence and ridicule;
A crazy holding on to the immutable,
A sort of very humble grand.
A sentimental journey back in time,
A signpost on life's little way.
A mutual reassurance in the sinking sands,
Of friendly ghosts that passed this way.
A wooden hut where weekly songs of praise
Ascended like burnt offerings or a funeral pyre,
And hearts were sometimes touched by listless wind
That blows from who knows where.
Whilst high majestic arches span the vale,
Soaring to untold heights above this nondescriptive home
Of faith: a wooden shelter that now has all but gone,
Leaving little trace but concrete path and fence,
All overgrown with weed and sentiment,
The people having passed away, moved on,
Discovering if what they preached turned out OK.
Survives with them or too has died?
We now walk past and view remembering.
Look up, look down, in wonder at the works of man,
Who come and go but leave a testament,
To those still left behind,
Directionless, devoid of faith and old.
31.7.2024: Yesterday I rode around getting quotes to mend my slipping chain. (Sounds a bit like 'casting off from the shore' doesn't it? Or slipping the earthly coil?) On the way, being such a lovely day and hot, decided to venture into the balmy blue for the first time this year. I have a natural aversion to enveloping cold, being a very poor specimen of the human species, but amazing what mind over matter can achieve and you always feel better for it afterwards. Mounts Bay is very safe for swimming as the sandy beach is so gently sloping that you need never be out of your depth. However whilst floating there I couldn't but help thinking of all the poor sods who have been ditched into the sea during war and peace and have wondered if that would be the way their life ended, icy cold and abandoned. How anyone could survive, as some did in those conditions, is quite amazing.
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