Balsdean Chapel

Between Death Valley* and The Snake*
An embankment of little height
Near where once stood
The village of Balsdean.
A steep hill to the right
On which climbs serpentine pathway
O’erlooking valleys green
Mere earthworks now, past memories long gone.

Necessities of war took hold
Of village buildings, including
The chapel there
A lowly flint structure.
Did a church bell there ring?
And holy choir His praises sing
On holy days of rest?
Would that embankment hold such memories?

A single plaque identifies
The space where once the altar stood
Before the shells
Did their destruction bring.
Wanton destruction could
Never repay the debt it owed
To verdant village fair
Their work is done, where next one cannot know.

Imagination bringing forth
Within that holy church the thought
Where gathered are
The faithful to attend.
Sacred instruction taught
And then the Holy Sacrifice
Of the Mass, Christ adored
And glorified. O holy, heavenly feast.

Imagining with sorrow now
Departing souls whose course is run
On this green earth
Being raised heavenward.
The priest in plainsong unison
With prayerful hands and eyes raised up
To Heaven, sings for their souls
Pleading forgiveness of the stain of sin.

In this sacred space, may we pray
As did the folk of centuries past
On this same spot
A prayerful silence keep.
And keep the faith, till at the last
In purity of heart and soul
We may, like them, ascend to Heaven
And enter it, through glorious golden gates.


*Death Valley and The Snake are two made up names for paths that form part of the “Tuff 20”, a 20 mile cross country race, formerly known as the Jog Shop Jog 20.