Most years I write a poem during Easter weekend but this year I have not had time - still working on it. I have a booklet of the best of these poems and reading through them made me think about when it was my turn to lead the whole thing. Seems like a long time ago, now but I was also reminded about this by an old friend, Fabian, during the weekend and he happily recounted the events. I gave him a copy of the poem at the time and he published it in a magazine he was editing then.
The poem was written on Easter Sunday 1988.
Student Cross has an Easter Vigil that starts around 10.30 in the evening and finishes some time between 1 and 2am. Then there is a party which lasts until the last one falls or goes home. On that particular Easter Sunday a few of us walked up to an old railway line above the village and welcomed the dawn. We then drove to the coast and paddled in the sea as the sun began to burn off the sea haze. After than we returned to Walsingham and I treated who ever was left of the group to a cooked breakfast at the Black Lion in Walsingham's Friday Market.
Here is the poem. This and other ones on the theme of Student Cross are in my book, "One more step".
Easter 1988
Each moment
had a soft startling beauty
like God’s gentle hand
had stroked the morning
and we watched it purr
The village below us
slept while veils of mist
dressed it in different shades and shapes
perspective kept changing
as we watched the roofs and spires
appear and disappear, appear and disappear
Each tree became itself then merged with grey
and the contours of the land
changed as subtly as a face changes expressions
We were blessed with a sunrise
which added colour constantly
which moved the colours in a gentle drama
working our eyes and hearts
into a chorus of praise
for all that existed on God’s good earth
and especially for this blessed space
called Walsingham.