Iona Abbey |
'Crucifixion' by Roy de Maistre |
I joined worshippers from across the globe for a stirring Easter day service and Holy Communion in Iona Abbey. Many had started their walk on the mainland and trekked all the way across Mull to the sacred isle. Over the years it has become traditional for pilgrims to gather in Reilig Oran, reputed burial place of 48 Scottish kings (and John Smith, once Labour party leader), to sing and celebrate the resurrection before their short march to the Abbey amid a chorus of Allelujahs. The preacher was the Rev Peter MacDonald, leader of the Iona Community, who delivered his sermon to a packed congregation, scores of whom were standing in the aisle. I left this service with my spiritual batteries well and truly re-charged.
Washing at 'The well of Eternal Youth' |
On some mornings we did a little running at an easy, relaxed pace. None of your strenuous speedwork, intervals or hill reps. Our legs were on holiday too. On Mull we ran along the shore of Loch na Keal to the soothing sounds of the waves, of wild geese and, would you believe, an early cuckoo on April 18th.
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Cheers! - from Ulva |
A sunset to match the wine |
As I said, there is more to life than running and racing - though I may well revise that statement after Sunday's ½ marathon.
Some years ago I picked up a pebble in St Columba's Bay that inspired me to write the following poem which I think is appropriate to copy here.
IONA STONE
Gem hunters, I suppose, would call you semi-precious
Or little more than a bauble of common marble
Green-veined with serpentine
The like of which litter the pebbled shores
Of many a far-flung Scottish isle.
Yet on a day
When white horses came cantering into Columba's Bay
You were the one in a million shining stone
That leapt into my hand, sun-bleached,
Tumbled and polished by aeons of breaking tides -
Fair fragment of Iona.
Semi-precious?
How do you value the wind
Whispering through the marram on white dunes,
Gulls mewing in the Hebridean blue
Or skulking corncrakes rasping out their joy
In meadows thick with summer flowers?
Bright stone,
You are the whole shimmering isle in magic microcosm,
The Bay at the Back of the Ocean,
Spouting caves and seals singing on black skerries
That rise, fall and rise again in the green swell.
You are litanies of lilting Gaelic -
Traigh Ban nam Manach, Eilean Chalbha,
Sithean, Port na Curaich and Traigh Mor -
You are wild thyme exploding in purple pools
On banks of sweet machair.
You are the bell booming in the granite tower,
The green goblet of the Eucharist,
Candles guttering on grey walls,
Chanting and bowed heads -
Bowed heads
Washed in Holy blood and each of them praying
That they too, like you, might be
The one in a million shining stone
On the long beach
Of eternity.
Some years ago I picked up a pebble in St Columba's Bay that inspired me to write the following poem which I think is appropriate to copy here.
IONA STONE
Gem hunters, I suppose, would call you semi-precious
Or little more than a bauble of common marble
Green-veined with serpentine
The like of which litter the pebbled shores
Of many a far-flung Scottish isle.
Yet on a day
When white horses came cantering into Columba's Bay
You were the one in a million shining stone
That leapt into my hand, sun-bleached,
Tumbled and polished by aeons of breaking tides -
Fair fragment of Iona.
Semi-precious?
How do you value the wind
Whispering through the marram on white dunes,
Gulls mewing in the Hebridean blue
Or skulking corncrakes rasping out their joy
In meadows thick with summer flowers?
Bright stone,
You are the whole shimmering isle in magic microcosm,
The Bay at the Back of the Ocean,
Spouting caves and seals singing on black skerries
That rise, fall and rise again in the green swell.
You are litanies of lilting Gaelic -
Traigh Ban nam Manach, Eilean Chalbha,
Sithean, Port na Curaich and Traigh Mor -
You are wild thyme exploding in purple pools
On banks of sweet machair.
You are the bell booming in the granite tower,
The green goblet of the Eucharist,
Candles guttering on grey walls,
Chanting and bowed heads -
Bowed heads
Washed in Holy blood and each of them praying
That they too, like you, might be
The one in a million shining stone
On the long beach
Of eternity.
What a beautiful Abbey! Are Mull, Ulva and Iona catholic islands? In my house I've a picture like 'The Crucifixion' which was made by an Italian painter.
ReplyDeleteScottish islands offer a wonderful environment and I hope to visit them. You really wrote an interesting report about Ulva with its green scenery. Congrats for the nice photo of the sunset. I know that it isn't easy to take those photos.
I wouldn't mind a glass ot that red wine :)
Thanks for sharing the poem and enjoy your Keswick's half marathon on May 1st.
Gorgeous post RF, and lovely poem. Thank you for re-igniting my desire to visit those lovely isles.
ReplyDeleteI love it!!! You are such a gifted writer! This post has brought a smile to my face and put joy in my heart:) You will forever be my English poet. Thanks for sharing the lovely pictures and poems!
ReplyDelete