Lighten our Darkness ...

Lighten our darkness …

The swirling waters of the great river 

leave behind the bustle 

of the noon-tide port,

the scream of sirens,

and the rattling of grain

pouring into boxes on the Quay.

The river, calm now, 

flows into the roseate West 

and the tired sun sinks lazily 

into a darkening sea.

In the Minster 

the evening candles have been lit,

their shadows dancing 

like grasses in the wind

spread across the stone altar

in the old chapel

where the red light hangs, 

a perpetual reminder 

that this is a place 

of sanctuary and of prayer.

Beside the estuary 

and across the vast expanse

of mud and marsh and sand,

pink footed geese 

fly home to their roost, 

while the curlew’s haunting cry

faintly echoes the bell’s 

summons to Evensong,

there to give thanks for the day,

and pray for a quiet night.

“Lighten our darkness 

we beseech thee O Lord”

The ancient chapel stirs,

the old words reverberate

and gather darkly 

in the rafters high above,

as tiny candle flames 

leap suddenly upwards, 

haloes of light in darkness, 

an answer to prayer.

The sky above the estuary is filled 

with the dusky mist of evening.

A lamb stranded on the Sea Bank

calls for its mother, 

but only a Barn Owl hoots

as he swoops low 

across the salt marsh

to find his fishing ground,

at the edge 

of the wide river. 

Tomorrow the sun will rise again

into the eastern sky, 

and the world will be remade 

as it has been daily since 

those first bright days of creation.

While tonight, 

far away across the marsh, 

a lone blackbird still sings,

and we shall rest 

in the arms of a loving God.