When I look down at my feet, I'm walking still - 2

Pilgrimage to Lindisfarne

Of all the things I expected to see

It wasn’t this                          

Herbs for healing, yes

A pool for a weary traveller

To dip his feet in

Insula sacra

The end of my journey

But no, not this

Sand and long shadows

In the startling gold of evening

Sea swirls and clouds crest

In the sky’s maelstrom

And Peter was a fisherman

Watching the

Silver gleam on the backs of mackerel

The devotion of the starfish

The worship of the waves

Like me, the seagulls make their mud flat pilgrimage

Sitting squat

Listening to the whispers in the marram grass

And I pray for

Samphire and sea pinks

Bleached wood

High tide tumult and low tide hush

The mystery of pebbles

The secrecy of shells