Tuesday, 24 February 2015

A Place of Waiting

A short walk
Through a door
where I have never been before.
A corridor carpeted in a colour I will not remember,
for I am too busy listening to the silence within,
and the contrast with the steady rush of traffic
beyond the perimeter.
Brown veneered doors stand like sentries,
guarding secrets I do not wish to contemplate.
Some are labelled
others offer no clue of the mysteries they contain.
I pause
My eyes searching for some indication
of the direction
I should take.
Despite my hesitance,
I have no thought of fear or flight.
In faith I walk forward,
and with quiet satisfaction
I notice the sign for reception.
Before I reach the threshold
people appear,
activated by the discrete alarm that heralded my arrival
I am made welcome.
and led into a room,
with cheerful upholstery.
I do not notice the literature
so carefully displayed
for my attention is focused totally on the person I have come to see.
We talk easily,
and I am surprised
by how relaxed I feel.
Any anxiety I had dissipates.
I am offered a tour,
but after discretely checking,
my host regrets that
I cannot visit the chapels
for they are occupied,
It would be rude
of me to intrude
into their silent world of waiting.
We walk on,
the corridor follows the downward contour of the land,
We enter a large space, where fairy lights and cars meet,
we greet those who are there.
The conversation moves on,
ebola, Christmas and the gospels.
I take my leave,
exchanging the peaceful sanctuary
for the more mundane noise and bustle of the world of retail,
my research complete
for now.
It is not every day you get a behind the scenes visit
to a Funeral Directors...