At the Quaker burial ground, Long Sutton

'At the Quaker burial ground, Long Sutton' by Roger Iredale

Beyond the window in the grassy burial ground
the long-departed face the stars from which
they came. Each modest headstone, laid out
in total symmetry and modelled perfectly
to fit some ancient template, proclaims
the uniformity of all below. There are no crosses,
angels or exotic slabs. The wording tells it simply
as it was: name, date of birth and death.

Inside, we face the centre on long benches
encrusted with the tracery of woodworm, worn
smooth with decades of oils from palms
and fingers long since gone. Once alive
to how the spirit ran in ecstasies of firebreath
through this tall and solemn space, they’re here.
We listen for the rain on windows, hearing
nothing through the density of inward Light.

This stillness holds the gathered silence like a bell.
We listen for the sound of concentrated
thought and breath, of darkness and the mystery
of God. A solemn otherness reaches
into spirits held together here, within a moment
that is past and future, that is inside
and outside, that embraces all the silent watchers,
here, and here, and everywhere.

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Friends in Long Sutton are celebrating 300 years of worship. The Meeting will be holding a celebration weekend to mark their tercentenary on 8-9 July, at which a book about the Meeting will also be launched.

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