Thoughts after a visit to St. Peter’s Church, Ellastone, Staffordshire on the 11th of September 1996.
We found one of the treasures
of which we came to search
Half buried in the wild grass
of this ancient country church.
The old gravestones, though weathered
by sun and wind and rain,
retained for o’er two hundred years
a deep-etched family name …..
My five-times great grandparents
lay deep ‘neath tangled weed;
I pondered what was left of them
who’d blessed me with their seed.
Those roots of me compounded
within the living sod …..
Those souls in some dimension
in union with God …..
And what did I inherit
of my values and beliefs
From the union of that man and wife
with all their joys and griefs?
How many distant kinsfolk
stem from every family line?
Perchance some friend or neighbour
carried genes the same as mine.
But aren’t we all inherent
in this living universe
Which cast the seed of all of us
the instant of its birth?
Composed by Dorothy Reid, my mother, who passed away peacefully on 6 August 2012.