The Nexus Collection: Ewan Elliott, The Last Rites

The Last Rites

They came from miles around
To pay homage to this old man
Rafters echoing with old Wesleyan hymns
        Of an amalgamated church
        Not his own
        A church with a small well maintained
        Steeple across the road
        Was his
        "We will go back she said - just for a laugh"

        We did - I have the postcard
        The postcard bought in this church
        People now drink, smoke and laugh
        In this most sacred of places
        For it is now a restaurant with stained glass windows
        She was angry when she saw faces, names, we both knew
        Photos on mahogany walls of yesterday
        And when she saw his signature on a deed of sale
        Cried and ran out 'of the Church'

The piano played and the crowd pushing to get nearer
A minister's sombre tones kept them in their seats

   "It's time you went up" she said
   "An hour before the service is the only time you have"
   Old men were gathered around
   Archaic rituals conducted before one of their own
   Rituals as old if not older than the rituals of the church
   The old men parted like waves before a rock
   For me to meet this man, to say good bye
   The coffin will be closed, locked down for the service
   A wasted thin old face shone up
   Teeth jutting out in that last grin
   Dressed to die dressed to fry
   I stood before this old man for the last time
   Reached out and laid a hand on his chest
   "You did all right Dad."
   As I walked away I could hear the sound of the nails being driven home