Just back from pilgrimage and thinking about it.

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.