This short poem was inspired by a recent visit to St Mary’s, Kinnoull, a monastery that has many memories for me…
I visited a hillside chapel the other day…
The birdsong seemed a pleasing praise,
Sounding loud and sweet o’er forest crown;
Lifting the heart from its weary malaise.
How easy to sense God’s nearness there,
Away from men and their secular ways.
In that green fringed space, of granite and grace,
I prayed my Lord for yet another beginning:
Forgiveness for the waste of precious years,
Things not done, more so than actual sinning;
The labourer lingering in the loitering place,
Still tardy to the task of his Lord’s harvesting.
The worn stone seemed somehow to reassure:
A time span that was His, not mine to dictate.
A present moment, freed from regret and fear,
In which once again to choose love o’er hate;
To surrender my feeble efforts at being good,
And to let myself be tutored by the Advocate.
I visited a hillside chapel the other day…
A quiet spot, away from the madding throng:
A brief moment to recharge, renew, rejoice,
To join the birds in their sacred, soaring song.
And then, to come away, melodies rehearsing,
Back home to the city of men where I belong.