we stood in the pew
like a ragged picket fence
experience had taught
my mother that children
were best spaced
between adults
when expected
to be on their
best behaviour
for the hour plus
of a Sunday service

our pew order was
Poppa Jack, patriarch and
grandfather to us three
Paul, middle child
born with little patience
and excess energy
Mum, middle daughter
to Jack, sister to Barbara
happy to  sit in relative quiet
for the duration of the sermon
Chris, the older brother, seriously
responsible on Sundays, yet on
weekdays, happy to use us as
test crash dummies for his pleasure
Auntie Barb, the eldest daughter
in the one-up generation
the soft place to land
for the younger clan members
and on the end little Jo
clanbaby only girl in
this generation, dreamer,
prone to falling asleep
in the warm folds of
Auntie Barb's Sunday best
as the word of the Lord
was expounded

We went to church every Sunday,
seriously I got awards for not missing
a day of Sunday School...

It is many years gone now
and sometimes even my
low key faith waivers,yet
I still find great comfort in
sitting on a hard wooden pew
in an empty old stone church...
there I find my sense of family
and peace, as in my mind
I lean into the warm honeysuckle
scented folds of my Auntie's Sunday best
and hear the peaceful tones
of the words of god
be expounded....