I have just come back from a short break to Aberdaron, on the Llyn Peninsula in Wales. It was the parish of R.S. Thomas, a priest but also a poet whose work I love. The door of the church on the sea front was open and the only sound was of the waves. In front of me was a copy of his poem, “The Other” and I was moved to tears.
There are nights that are so still
that I can hear the small owl
calling
far off and a fox barking
miles away. It is then that I lie
in the lean hours awake listening
to the swell born somewhere in
the Atlantic
rising and falling, rising and
falling
wave on wave on the long shore
by the village that is without
light
and companionless. And the
thought comes
of that other being who is
awake, too,
letting our prayers break on him,
not like this for a few hours,
but for days, years, for eternity.
Rev David Poyner