Columba of
the rocks and roots and rolling waves,
of rain-drenched earth, changing skies and empty horizons,
of coming home and moving on.
Columba of
the music of wind and seabird cries,
the poetry of wild geese and lowing cattle,
the vision of sharing bread and stories.
Columba
man of solitude and simplicity,
community and compassion,
soul friend.
We celebrate with gratitude and hope
your being and openness
to the blessedness of all things.
Columba who saw the blessing of beauty
and Iona as a light for all times,
with you
we weep
for depths of poverty
and pinnacles of wealth;
for hostility, impersonality,
suffering, indifference,
and all that harms people
and all living things.
With you
we laugh
for humaity's raucous energy
and generosity of spirit;
for angels, smiling faces
and all that heals people.
We celebrate with gratitude and hope
your being and your openness
to the blessedness of all things.
Because of imagination, legend and prayer,
because of love and grace,
no act is inconsequential
and no story without significance.
In our knowing and unknowing;
in the quiet held within
that is Columba's vision and forever Iona,
we hold memories, remembrance,
and the whisperings
of a people's pride.
We hold out for others
the poet's bread
and the people's poetry.
We celebrate with gratitude and hope
the holiness of being
and the blessedness of all things.
--Joy Mead, from In The Gift of This New Day: Praying With the Iona Community, edited by Neil Paynter, 2015
Image: Stained glass window from Iona Abbey
