by Emily Wilmer
After days of wandering Yns Enlli alone,
I stood open to sea and sky, longed
to hear the Holy call my name; instead
relentless waves hammered my heart
hollow, throaty croons of Manx
shearwaters lulled me to sleep.
Wind whipped through drafty windows
of my loft bedroom gathering the saints
to hold and protect me.
I hiked to chapel ruins for solitary prayer,
perched for hours on the rocky beach
watching sleek, gray seals surface and dive.
This holy island is where ancient monks
came to die, last stop on the Pilgrim Path;
where I sought the resurrection of my heart.
Atop Myndd Enlli, a shaft of light
pierced somber clouds, silvered shivery
waters below, ringed me in radiance.
Now on our deck enclosed by Blue Ridge Mountains,
hiraeth for Enlli overtakes me. Enlli where
spirits of holy men, chants
of seal and bird, wave and wind whispered
the sacred; where my heart quickened
and I praised God’s Holy name.
Yns Enlli: Bardsey Island
Myndd Enlli: Bardsey Mountain
