Recently, on a trip to Aberdeen, I was forced off the road by a stunningly beautiful sight along the East coast of Scotland. It was the blue skies, the sheer drop to the sea and the golf course at Stonehaven. The Ashmolean reading was imminent, and with a name like Stonehaven, you’d think I went there in search of Memories of Stone, but no, it was the ruins of a small parish by the sea that arrested me that day. This was clearly a metaphor for a Post-Christian Britain where emptying churchhalls were finding a new lease of life as gyms and pubs. The church was gone. The furniture, the roof, the floor... everything was gone. The organ was no more, the priest had moved on and what parishioners remained had literally gone underground.
All that was left were
the stone bones of the church.
And the bones of her memorial stones.
Fortunately I had my camera. And a brimming poem.
The Parish Church at Stonehaven
Sink your foundations deep,
Faith should be built of stronger stuff than
Flesh and blood.
Here’s where they searched the skies
For Messiah’s second call.
Here’s where they listened for the trump
Of his triumphant hosts.
Here’s where they fought the fight of faith.
Here’s where they lost.
Here’s where the roof came crashing down.
Here’s where the panelled floor caved in.
Did they build their faith of straw?
Of hay?
Of wood?
Or on Stonehaven stone?
Did they found their faith upon the Rock?
Sink your foundations deep,
Leave monuments in hearts of men.
Etch memorials in slabs of stone
In scenic graveyards sunk into seas.
Did they build their faith on piles
Driven into the crust of earth?
Did they build on hopes hung upon heaven’s beam?
Here's where the parish priest moved on.
Here’s where his parishioners fled.
Here’s where the dead lie rooted still,
Spirits flown to clement climes.
Here’s where the parish tombstones rest in peace.
Two large stones for the church,
One small one for each of her faithful dead,
Like Pharoah interred with his hapless court;
Emperor Huang and his terracotta hordes.
Here’s where they cried:
‘Give me faith or give me death!’
Here’s a cut tombstone.
Rest in perfect peace.
© Chuma Nwokolo, Jr.
...in scenic graveyards sunk into seas
two large stones for the church....
...one small one for each of her faithful dead,
