Creative Works
A bit like Tai Chi
The sea moves rhythmically
Ebbing and flowing
Saint Cuthbert
He came at low tide,
Walking the pilgrim’s way from Beal Sands,
Following the guideposts to Lindisfarne.
He left the grazing green of the Leader Burn,
To shepherd lost sheep in the darkness of the world.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
Pause near the Priory ruins and imagine,
Imagine you see the silhouette of a man,
Wade waist deep into the cold North Sea.
Look how strong he stands,
All night long he stands,
Daring the sea to drag him down.
Can you feel its icy clasp?
Save me, O God! The waters have come up to my neck.
Waves circle but do not attack.
Faith like a force field is holding them back.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow
Of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.
If any poem strikes a chord with you, tell me. Only I will see it.
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