[Poetry is an unusual form for me to write, but inspiration came for this while sitting in the cloisters of Durham Cathedral at the end of a retreat day last autumn spent largely in the Galilee Chapel the cathedral (which is stunning)]
I sit inside this house of stone
Listening to talk of creation;
And I want to get outside:
To see the trees in their traffic light autumnal splendour,
To hear the river and smell the leaves underfoot.
Outside to the greenery, and nature. That’s creation.
Not cooped up here in this man-made edifice.
Then I look, and my eyes are opened
To see that the stones, that seemed so dead
Are alive with colour.
Swirls of orange and ochre, browns and creams
Dance across their faces.
Faces once uniform, now weathered
By rain and wind and cold.
Created stone, altered by creation’s power.
Or these vast doors;
Dark ancient planks, hewn, joined and adorned.
By man, yes, but man is but creation too.
Created in the Creator’s image,
To mould and shape, adorn and build.
So far from being merely ‘man-made’
This cathedral is thrice created;
Creation’s elements, stone and wood
Raised up by created beings
And weathered, given character, by creation’s power.
All to the Creator’s glory.