This is one of a series of poems, written by my Grandmother, that represent a portrait of her childhood in Thomas Hardy’s Wessex, places and people she loved who are, for the most part, no longer with us. She dedicates each and every poem to her daughters, and has kindly given me permission to share them with you all, enjoy…
A Country Churchyard
Some clever people might have thought
It was symbolic. A row of
Snakes, dead adders that had been caught
Within the churchyard, hanging there
Along the wall, like measuring tapes,
Diamond backs fading in the sun.
Temptations left the mouth that gapes
And eyeless sockets see no more
But those who came to tend the graves
Must run the gauntlet of the wall.
And whispers, from the praying naves,
Attest his kinship with the Fall.
© Dorothy Davis-Sellick 1998 onwards