Within her shades of green and blues
The waves and breeze; the stony hues
The peace evoked is palpable
Crofts snuggled in her hilly mounds
Lulled gently by Iona’s Sound
Her repose... unfathomable
With weary lungs I breathe sea in
Exhale all worries and my sin
Her Holy grace... historical
St Columba from Irish shores
Brought religion to pagan souls
Poor Oran’s heart... unstoppable
First Celtic church and monastery
Cradle of Christianity
A thin place... irrefutable
From Martyrs’ bay sailboats are seen
Cove’s bloody past hard to conceive
Savagery... undeniable
Now ferry mounts her crystal shores
Not Viking boats in search of hoards
Terror... unimaginable
Amongst her abbey’s sacred grounds
Monks envisioned with their heads bowed
Legacy... immeasurable
New pilgrims retrace nun’s footsteps
In contemplative prayer attest
Healing through love is... possible
So when I wave her shores goodbye
Her calm I take in my mind’s eye
Renewed my hope... I am humbled
© Debbie Razey 2021 - Violet Moon Poetry.
