Voices in the Chantry

Voice 1 - from within the Chantry walls

"Oh come dear heavenly Father, and bless our Lord and Master,
Who calls upon your mercy by these monks here present;
Grant him leave to watch over the villagers of our surrounds,
Who plough the fields and reap the ground,
To let no stone go unturned til the devilish smugglers be found..."

 (a loud interjection) - "Fire! Fire!"

 ...(a solitary monk's voice fades in after a burning sound, a commotion...) 
             
"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone"

Voice 2 - on approaching The Chantry from the direction of the beach

 A stone falls from a girl's rockpooled-wet dress pocket
 A souvenir for her box of nature's wonders
 She picks it up and looks on in awe -
 Her treasured ammonite glints in the midday sun.
 She traces its spiralled form with tenderness;
 History, present, future, in the palm of her hand.

Voice 3 - from within the Tea Garden

 And here, where time meets us
 Beach-weathered face to Sunday-best face
 We lick ice-creams
 Drink tea and contemplate
 The restoration;
 The ruins of our ancestry shored up...
 For now...
 Girls, boys, elders,
 Villagers, walkers, 
 Historians, geologists,
 Sirs seated, treated
 The same as the next man -
 Together.
      
 The girl, now advanced in years,
 Peers into her cup...
 A spiral of life
 Swirling with a recyclable spoon
 The clouds, reflecting
 On the surface,
 Stirring the depths beneath...

 More tea dear?

 And from a nearby solar window, a dove alights.


A. Wensley
27.02.23