For something inspirational view the video - link to the right.  Have the tissues ready!


The Priory

The walls cling to their secrets
but down by the cliff edge
where the walls tumble to the surf
I am sure I hear the chants
of the divine office
rising on the wings of seabirds.

This is where Oswin was buried,
now the remains of the priory
poke their fingers into the sky.
Time and weather have taken their toll
and now children play on the grassy banks
and roll where feet once trod
in silent rooms and cloisters.

At sunset its silhouette perches
on the headland, standing guard
as garrison once did from the castle
protecting the mouth of the Tyne
in wars gone by.

Wrapped in its mantle
there is space to wander
the windswept perimeter,
criss-cross the floors, touch the stone
and find the Holiness in this place.

Published in 2010 Summer Edition of Areopagus