Aside from wind-whispered voices, stones
Were place of ocean solitude, beyond words,
Offending sounds, thoughts profane. Thus,
Were ruins of collapsed chapel, stone walls
In rubble, yet peace, serenity lingered, as if
God still visited this Hebridean isle, place
Of standing stones, Norse invaders, early
Christians, hillside wanderers like myself.
For few moments, decades blurred. What year
Is this, 1000 A.D.? Spell purposefully broken,
I stepped away, I’d seen enough, taken photos,
Anticipating next sightseeing stop. Perchance,
Hand upon my shoulder, knowing presence
Mind-whispered, “Return.” What would it hurt,
Moving within confines of weathered walls?
Simple prayer I uttered, “Yes, I’m here.”
“Return morrow’s sky-awakening dawn,”
Windy voice offered. I understood, before
First light, alone, beneath heaven’s firmament
Of planets, stars. O! How sun flashed like
Flame across the sky, illuminating every
Corner collapsed stones. Such realizations:
God was in smallest places, present in these
Ruins, leafy branch, breath of springtime air.
First thought, take a stone, take God with me,
But beyond this chapel, hammered headlands,
Just another rock. Within holy chapel, sunlight
Dissolved darkness, instilling love. Like rosy
Clouds above, I had awakened, soul aroused,
And equally, inner peace attained, contempla-
Tive solitude, time for prayer, simple acts of
Christian charity, dawning light within.
For more about Hebridean Isle chapels similar to one described,
see this link. Thanks for reading.