More a thump than a quiet
scattering, as wet earth hits
the coffin. What has happened?
Where did life go? A moment ago
it seems you and I were children
running and wild, and yes, you
sometimes ran in this very
churchyard, where now you lie
as others here will lay after you.
And countless others, over a
thousand years since the first
Church raised here, have also run
and worshipped, and cried
and laughed, and loved,
and lost, right here on this
hallowed ground. The sum of
life is not in in its ending,
although, it is so final.
And in the rain, mingled with
tears, a cat. She comes to be
sociable. Hiding under the mourners
coats, and rubbing their legs.
And she takes nothing away from
the sadness, but offers a
perspective. There are lives
lived in the moment. And
fulfilled simply in living.
And afterwards, in the bar,
over beer, and sandwiches,
and stories of old times,
the cat is remembered,
and life is celebrated for
what it is, and a man is
mourned for the person
he was. No life is perfect
but each is for living.
Rob James 