Strong tower

Oh you were razed
years ago strong tower
felled and your silenced
bell ignominiously
topping a pile of rubble

I gazed upon you
disconsolately softly
holding the raised hand
of an adored still tiny

Daddy! I’ve never
seen you cry before –
and grateful for
her watchful
presence I told her

of the silence and the
call within your
hallowed walls long
years before
still tiny too then

I lifted my own
watchful eyes to
stained glass throne
and glory and the song

Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus
Dominus et Deus Omnipotens

Holy, Holy, Holy
Lord and God Almighty

Strong Tower raised there
in beeswax-scented silence


see travelpad


Warmly caressed here
by the sound of the Sound
I can only imagine
beloved Iona
how they decided together
upon the gift for you
of such a glorious name

William, flight lieutenant
was a pathfinder who
found a way to Margaret’s
heart, and perhaps they
heard the sound of the Sound
here as they dreamed of you
beloved Iona

Perhaps the sunlight touched
and warmed his tweed collar
and her specially chosen
holiday dress and maybe
you’ll have heard the
soaring cry of the gull
before your newly arrived breath

Over years and years
I shouldn’t wonder –
their returnings here and
joy in home from home
and scented, salted, smiling
silence until, oh yes
and no, and no and yes

their departing, thankful
last breathing and your
generous recollection of
their listening, watching
and waiting here. Their
loving engraved in oak that
we now may sit here in awe

pathfinding, beloved Iona


see travelpad