ISLAND OF STAFFA, SCOTLAND
A tour boat pulls alongside the dock
ready for novice sailors.
The Isle of Staffa and Fingal’s Cave
the reward at the other end.
Mendelsohn composed here,
entranced by the rhythm
and sound of the waves
crashing onto the rocky shoreline.
A staircase carved into the side
of the island allows me to scale this mound.
Following my mind’s meanderings,
I make my way to the western side of the island - alone.
Finding a small crevice with a flat rock to sit on,
a little shelf to rest my elbow,
I sit watching the waves.
The craggy hillside is dotted with nests of seagulls
that swoop down to the sea
and glide back again to rest on the cliff.
A light drizzle begins
and so I start back to the pier,
but not before climbing to the summit.
Lying on the ground,
I say a silent prayer
of re-commitment to my Creator.
At that moment, through closed eyes,
I sense a source of light.
Slowly opening my eyes,
I see the sun struggling
to shine through overcast skies.
The light drizzle of this day is a gift from God,
a renewal of Baptism;
and the sunshine
a sense of the power and beauty of God
in this remote place.