We pitched our tent on the outskirts And walked in the dark of night, Stride for stride, hand in hand, well clad. Like Sumos wrestling against the wind. Warm in the laughter between us. A trickle of light at dawn Brought us hope And closer to the holy place. Entering the mystery By the narrow gate. Barely standing room at the sacred wall. A stone hollowed by touch, Inviting connection, motherly love. White robes billow in the wind, Humble Pope in silence prays. He came to visit Knock A gathering of people Destined to be here, Like others a century or more ago. What miracles will manifest today? What wounds laid bare to the lamb? What joy found in communion? What love hiding in discovery? We came to see the Pope, We came to visit Knock.
A blog featuring my poetry and sharing inspiration