Sunday, 2 July 2017

A Curse

Dear Reader,




                                                                    Waltham Abbey in Essex and King Harold II


There seems to be some dispute about where the body lies of King Harold II, (1022-1066) the last Anglo Saxon King of England.   He is buried at Waltham Abbey Church, but two amateur historians claim that Harold, who was killed at the Battle of Hastings in 1066, may not be buried there.  In a development reminiscent of the body of Richard 111 (see my former blog) dug up from under a Leicester car park in 2012, a solicitor and a private detective are now fighting to prove that four tombs under St. Michael's church in Bishop's Stortford, Herts, contain the bones of Harold and his family.  They think his wife, Edith the Fair, who lived at the Manor of Stortford, had him buried there.  They want to conduct a radar analysis on the coffins to prove their point but so far the church, thank goodness, has declined their request.  Why can't people just leave bones and coffins and whatever is in them alone?  Hence this poem once again.

                                                                            *

Seagull news.  After the Glastonbury festival the seagulls had a marvellous party eating the disgusting litter left by the carefree eco-revellers and their friends.

                                                                            *

A Curse

on those who plunder the earth,
and violate sacred places .........

A curse on those who disturb
and steal gently-bandages skulls,
legs, arms, and finger-bones,
jewels: perhaps a pearl bracelet,
a coral ring, hair pins, or a mosaic plate,
set out lovingly with food
for the long journey home.
Who have lain there, at peace,
for many thousand years,
the sand, the desert winds, the rains,
nature's bed.

A curse on those whose
laughter and excitement
fills the air, stealing these remains,
transporting them to people
in white coats,
who dissect their dignity,
stick labels on them,
give them to museums
to enlighten an ice-cream-licking public.

                                                                                *

With very best wishes, Patricia 



                                                                      

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Marvellous!x

Rebecca said...

Very thought provoking. The beloved dead with their precious gifts, sacredly and secretly resting, set against the desire to safeguard, document, classify and display.

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