Hermitage Poem by Martin Swords

Many’s the fainthearted
Full of fear and fright
Guided from dark danger
By the calling bell and light

Some are the downtrodden
Seeking to find their way
Some are the lost forgotten
Journeying out to pray

Others seek the hallowed ground
To stand where Kevin stood
To walk by the lake where Kevin walked
To the Saint’s cell in the wood

Most are good God fearing
Knowing right from wrong
Longing to touch the hermits hem
To grow in the hermits song

Longing to touch the hermits hem
To rest in the sanctuary found
To grow in the way of the hermits step
In Glendalough Holy ground

To grow in the way of the hermits step
To find in themselves again
The simple truth of quiet content
The core of self, the inner being
The honest look, that way of seeing
The hermits gift, the hermits tranquil way



Martin Swords Oct.2009