A hard landing he had of it
Through the baying waves
Coracle smashed on grey boulders
The red cliffs rugged before.
Scratching a cross on a slab of rock
Thrice he prostrated his thanks to the wind.
Tell me what the Cross is …..
Between cliff and water
Boulders break the force of wind and rain
An empty shore roaring with an empty sea
Liturgical voices blowing through his head
And lone heart rejoicing in the fear of solitude
The bent and sombre musing trees.
Tell me what the Cross is…
Clawing sweet shellfish
From the fish-jawed stones.
Tell me what the Cross is …
Cliff climbing slowly
Gazing back at the sun-patched sea
Joy of journeying ripe in mind
Turning inland to the distant hills
The bee humming woods
Looking for people
Tell me where the Cross is ….
See: Mclaughlin,W.J. 1999. Molaise of Arran. A Saint Of The Celtic Church. ISBN 0-9535437-1-4. Privately published.
April 1976. Peppercombe, Devon. Revised 2007 after Holy Island retreat.