Talking last night of caravans and pilgrimage with Father Mark of Mettingham, I couldn’t avoid musing on the profound experience of our glorious midsummer pilgrimage to Pennant Melangell: peace and tranquility, the length of the midsummer sunset, the clear night-sky, the sound of bees in the morning, summer flowers… and above all, walking down the dark lane, opening the ancient church door and approaching St Melangell’s shrine clutching a single taper, and praying next to her relics.
That day and night were such a contrast to the past day and present night – wet and cold, weeks from midwinter – yet a little connection was made as I browsed in Oxfam bookshop before buying groceries.
Among the poetry books was a very obvious title – “The Lady and the Hare”, new and selected poems from Pauline Stainer – and within its pages the poem of that very title.
They would have you believe
she slept on bedrock
where ash roots the stone
.
that what startled silence
was not a buzzard mewing
but the huntsman’s horn unblown.
.
When the hounds
broke from their thicket
they froze at her calm
.
sensed in the cold apse
of her breast
both the dove and the bone.
.
Today we started no hare;
downstream of the waterfall
found only her shrine
.
and how sternly
the warm hare is folded
inside her fierce gown.
.
