Scarba


Following the Aoradh Wilderness Retreat to Scarba last weekend, I wrote this,




Scarba 

Steel grey skies darken,
Hidden rock spires, deep depths, whirling, roaring tides and waves.
Wind and waves grow,
Deck lurching side to side,
Uncertainty,
Hope,
A rocky shore, but his plan, not ours.

Safe upon a new shore, an unknown glen, not known for generations passed.
Rocks, prayers,
The rough-hewn blackness sinking into waves,
Rocks, prayers,
Held, carried, prayed over
Are you there?

Flotsam resting in pools,
Seaweed floating aft and fore,
Water gently laps on rock,
Tides surge to north and south,
Moss so ancient, air so clean and pure.
Waves crash on broken shores,
Wilderness, wildness of raw creation,
He has always been here,
In this thin place, almost opaque.

The spirit all around, in fire, wind and rain,
The almighty ever present in our hearts,
The Lord sitting on a stone, sheltering, laughing with disciples.
Trinity surging in power through the stillness.
The Lord standing alongside, by the fire, sparks ascending on high.
Oh Almighty one, prayers unbidden, unspoken;
Heard.

Stags racing over moor,
Eagles soaring, circling,
Ancient trees, bent, twisted and broken.
Hidden treasures,
Contemplation;
of deep pools.

Meeting Christ in bread and in wine,
Losing sense of space and time.
Prayers sent into the night, with sparks and grace,
Then silently, descending to sleep.
Rising at dawn, to quietly dismantle a home,
The shelter gone.
Then gathered, reflecting on Christ crucified.

The island behind, fading in the distance.
Ahead, a new communion of a life renewed,
Reconciled to Jesus, resurrected in our hearts.



Andrew Hill ©2013

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