Watercolour by the author:
the image of a complete beehive cell
or clochan
draws on similar well preserved
cells in Ireland and some small
Scottish islands
From coracle to beehive cell,
once rudderless upon the tides
where wind drives the sea
inexorably before it:
running, ebbing, flowing,
thrubbing, drumming, beating
on the tensioned hides.
Holiness at the helm
then, Holiness at the door,
wherever that might be;
to demonstrate
humility and love
poured out, dispersed,
available to any
who trust, as they have trusted
in their Sovereign Lord above.
Sovereign over land,
Sovereign over sea,
Sovereign over tempest,
yet pinioned by nails,
driven to death,
for you, for me.
Then, Risen! Risen! Risen!
Let all the earth rejoice,
let praise and glory be
to Him who brought the hermit
safely from the sea.
Trevor Thorn
