Islands: In Memoriam

From the shore, the Channel Islands mound
Indistinctly grey against grey skies;
Barely separate from waters that surround,

They rest like invert wombs. Sheer turrets rise
At Cathedral Point—but we cannot see
Such detail from our shore. It strains our eyes

Just to trace dark, arcing curves of scree
That mark sharp land from mapless ocean ways.
Cloud-shrouded, the islands keep their mystery

From those of us on shore. Their lead-grey bays
And coves hide secrets frightening and dark;
Beneath thick storm-whipped spray and dusky haze,

The islands terrify.  Their outlines mark
Blind boundaries of our human, mortal vision.
Grey shapes, they stand stark symbols of the dark,

Of loss, of harsh unbearable collision—
Love with Faith.  To live without the Love…
Unthinkable; to endure the indecision

Loss implies…impossible. Above
Deep mist-grey mounds, cloud cover billows, parts
For one sufficient moment. Like a dove

Of sheerest light, the sun breaks through with darts
That glance from rock to sea and back again.
A gleam…a fragment light…then gone…. But hearts

That wear the weight of grief and twisting pain
Reach up, entwined with that faint light—rebound
With faith and love to rest on Heaven’s plain:

Barely held by waters that surround,
Infinite blue beneath celestial skies,
Seen from our shores, the Channel Islands mound.