Columba's Tears is the name given to the green and white marble stones of Iona. Tourists and pilgrims fill their pockets with them and take them home. It's a wonder that there's any left on that small island. But a lot of things about Iona are wonderful. Searching through some old papers at the weekend I came across this poem, which I penned during a work week on Iona in 2002. I reproduce it here aware that there's a Greenbelt party on Iona at the end of May. I won't be with them this year: hope they have a good time.
Columba's island called me
So I dutifully came
By plane and bus and ferry boat
Through wind and driving rain.
I've been drying out my trousers
But they just got wet again.
I'm feeling very windswept and quite wonderful.
My forehead's red and peeling
There's blackbirds in my ears
And I'm walking round with pockets full of
Columba's tears.
They've put me on a chore team
To make me feel at home
I thought, 'This is a holiday'
But didn't like to moan.
Those mealtime conversations meant that
I've never been alone.
I'm feeling very tired and quite wonderful.
My forehead's red and peeling
There's blackbirds in my ears
And I'm walking round with pockets full of
Columba's tears.
They've processed me round the island
And sent me out to sea
Thev've sat me down with videos of
Macleod's Community.
They've caused me to drink gallons of
Odd-flavoured herbal tea.
I'm feeling decaffinated and quite wonderful.
My forehead's red and peeling
There's blackbirds in my ears
And I'm walking round with pockets full of
Columba's tears.
I thought I was retreating
But they've brought me face to face
With life in all its rawness
In this light-filled edgy place.
I'll leave here with a song to sing
About amazing grace.
I'm feeling almost holy and quite wonderful.
My forehead's red and peeling
There's blackbirds in my ears
And I'm walking round with pockets full of
Columba's tears.
This green rock begs a question:
What makes Columba cry?
And what can keep the tears away from
That missionary's eye.
The answer's in my lifestyle
Beneath God's lively sky.
I'm feeling liberated and quite wonderful.
My forehead's red and peeling
There's blackbirds in my ears
And I'm walking round with pockets full of
Columba's tears.
Glad to see you are blogging again. Love the Iona poem.
I went to Cole’s book launch in London. The morris dancers – Wolf’s Head and Vixen – were also there – incredible! Good book – and, like you, I resonated with a lot of what he was saying.