Renaissance Cefn Mawr

A poem by Sara Wheeler

“One night, one night, ooooooo,

one night in C-E-F-N….”

Sang the DJ in Club XS

back in the ‘90s,

when M-people were top of the pops

and I was just old enough to be there serving drinks.

Cefn. Cefn Mawr.

“Big back” - why’s it called that?

It’s always perplexed me,

but then we came here

to explore, to talk, and to listen;

so I looked it up:

‘Cefn’, meaning ‘ridge’ - a less common usage

of this Welsh word - here in Wrecsam anyway.

I’d never, to my knowledge,

been to this specific village;

I was surprised at how pretty it was - 

like a lesser-known Llangollen,

minus the river running through it.

This land was rich once,

in iron, coal, clay, and sandstone.

So it was worked, mined, and quarried;

Mineral wealth exported by canal,

over the elaborate Pontcysyllte aqueduct.

Then came the chemical works

and a plethora of productions,

ending in the 20-10s,

and a large Tescos 2 years later.

They built on the old Cefn Druids ground

but made a new one for the football team

over in Rhosymedre.

Ôl-ddiwydiannol. Post-industrial.

So many of the other, similar places

have a tristwch hanging in the air;

ond fa’ma mae ‘na gobaith,

wrth i’r fro ara’ deg aildanio;

So much new hope here,

as a bustling new industry emerges.

Cacennau ‘Moonbakes’ sy’n denu,

pobl draw o bobman;

Trigolion lleol yn wfftio’r 

torthi parod Tesco; gofyn i Jason 

am bara beunyddiol, ffres o’r siop;

Rhyw hiraeth am yr hen ddyddiau, efallai,

ag arogl melys, iach gynhwysion teg

heb dinc monopolaidd yr archfarchnadoedd mawr.

Rhyw ysbryd boho nawr sy’n chwyrlio trwy’r pentre’

a gyda’n gilydd wnawn ni cefnu a ffynnu:

“Mae Cefn yn haeddu gwell”.