As I walk around the burial ground I see the signs of spring, I hear the birds singing and when the sun is shining it really appears to be a lovely quiet place to be where my thoughts turn to distant memories, they dance in front of my minds eye as if in a dream. Then the mist clears and all you are left with is a picture. I now walk in a cold, stark place of death, loss and spite. Where has the peace gone? Where has the warmth gone? When you walk around the graveyard what do you notice? It is empty.
Note: The pictures in this blog were taken last Easter before they were removed by the church officials. Offensive aren't they?
And it remains in the heart of the community. The dark is in the heart of the church’s leaders, their officials, their followers. Spring and with it, Easter, should be a time like Christmas where we gather with family. Our human nature takes us to our family wherever they are and as a family we do not forget those who are lost to us. We placed our loved ones in the hands of the church as we thought they would be cared for but no that is not the case. They took them and pushed us away as if we are nothing, as if we no longer matter. They care about our grief until the moment the bodies rest on the earth and then we no longer matter. Our hearts are no longer their concern and in our darkest moments they do nothing to help us.
A few years ago, on Mothers Day you would see a vista of gifts, baskets, flowers, candles, tokens of love. On Fathers Day you would see cards, gifts. A sea of well-kept graves, tended with love. At Easter the childrens graves would have baskets with Easter bunnies and little decorations of bees and eggs and signs of spring celebrations and family closeness. This is how it is in all the other burial grounds and graveyards across the country.
But not here, here it is empty.
The church leaders talk of new beginnings, new life. This time of year is a celebration, a celebration of all that is good. We have survived the cold winter and the spring sunshine chases away the dark days. Here, the dark remains.
The sunshine that chases away the dark cannot penetrate their cold hearts. And when we can no longer bare to go to see the graves that are empty and our memories are over shadowed by their evil, they grass it over as if those buried there are no longer loved or remembered. They like it like that because it is easier for them to mow the grass. Like the self-centred beings that they are, they gloat that they have won a victory over the bereaved. They continue their constant nasty little battle. Removing anything to show their power.
But who are they fighting? A mother who has lost a precious daughter. A father who will never see his boy become a man. A child who cries every night for his mother. A sister who misses her best friend and confidant. A couple who never got the chance to take their child home to the cot that was waiting for them.
In every other graveyard in this Diocese there is peace, love and celebration of spring. But here, here there is only hate.
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