Following Our Celtic Call

Part of Patty's poem "Contrast": Owen, his last salmon haul sold,
money in his pocket, sits on the back pew
damp, bone-weary, looks at
the candle he lit for his long-dead wife.
He misses her still but in here somehow he
is comforted, filled.

St. Patrick's--respite for a spirit, a filling soul-cake
Wild Atlantic--test for spirit, risk for outer life
The church, resting place for transcendence,
faces
the ocean, life challenging master.
And there's the threshold between them
for Owen to cross.