The clock ticks

In the stillness of the chapel the clock ticks

They sit quietly and consider

The polished wood releases its historic smell and triggers latent memories

Varnish and damp combine to unlock the door to the past

Each one trying to recapture a former time, another era

The clock ticks

These few minutes of near silence give space to listen and think, to ponder and pray

To give space to what is important

They look around at the others, wandering what is happening inside their private thoughts

Are minds wandering, trying to focus but being led astray?

Is God drawing near, or does he seem a distant stranger?

The clock ticks

Why are they here and why do they keep returning?

The stillness ends as they finish with a prayer

The door is closed and locked, yet still the clock ticks

Unbothered by the empty pews

Independent of everything except the small charge of electricity and the laws of physics

For the next seven days the hands continue to move at different speeds

Does the clock tick if there is no one to hear the sound?

A week later the door is opened and the few find their places again

A hymn is sung, a Bible passage is read, and a prayer is spoken

The clock ticks and maintains its unruffled, circular sweep 

For generations a clock has presided over the affairs of the chapel

Many have come and gone, loved and laughed, cried and mourned

Will the clock's batteries last, will they need to be replaced?

Will the tick of the clock endure, or will it gradually die?

The clock ticks, regular and rhythmical 

It ticks during the spring as the land germinates and the lambs leap

The warmth of summer and the hazy sunshine are punctuated by its tempo

Autumn turns to winter, yellow leaves become frosted 

The clock taps out its beat, tick, tick, tick, tick

Another year passes, 'time and tide wait for no man'

The ticking clock is the same, it continues its work without fear or favour

Each second is announced with the same hushed fanfare as the previous one

It may look as if time itself is dependent on the clock's mechanism

But of course, that is not the case, time will continue whether the clock ticks or not

But the clock ticks on

Its life continues without a break

The door opens again, and preparations are made for another gathering

Lights and heating are switched on, old hymn books are placed on freshly dusted pews

A larger than usual congregation sit and stand, sing and pray, listen and think

The clock ticks

Words of sadness and regret are spoken, memories of former times return

There has been a past but now there will no longer be a future

Hope has been deferred for too long, hearts have become sick

The door closes and is locked for the final time

The damp is left to its own devices, no one will hold back the slow tide of dust

Cobwebs will be built by undisturbed spiders 

The clock stops ticking, but no one is there to hear the silence

Years later the door is opened once more, the chapel lies broken and bruised

Down but not out

The clock is taken down from its place on the wall, a new battery is found

The clock ticks again