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The Hermitage

This poem is about Warkworth Hermitage in Northumberland and was first published in Agape Magazine on 4th September 2021

The Hermitage by Christine Fowler Poetry

I feel the pull of a silent cry,

calling from across the river bed.

There a long-forgotten cave lies

hidden, from unseeing eyes.

Once a hermitage filled with heart felt prayer,

now dark and empty with no-one there.

But still the godly spirit resides

and calls to me, from the other side.

The very earth that lines the floor,

speaks of what has gone before.

The abandoned ledge upon the wall,

echoes with the silent call

waiting to be filled with icon bright,

to shine out through the long dark night.

It’s there the longing pulls at me

my feet it is, it wants to see.

An imprint of each toe and sole

to once again, make it feel whole.

To feel my knees bed in the earth

as my silent prayer, underlines its worth.

To once again a place of worship be

fulfilled by the presence of me,

to be the holy hermit there,

to continue in silent prayer

and feel the religious ecstasy.

To intercede with god above

and fill our conversation with love.

And send out prayers to save the world

to let our worries all unfurl,

so god can make right everything

and we, like angels can grow our wings

as we climb on the highest stair,

to meet with god, in heavens, shining air.


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