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St Catherine's Oratory survived

            The reformation's crushing blows

            Because its high position shows

The way to ships up from St Ives,

And through the years the spinster band

            Has wheezed its way there in the hope

            Of matrimony - while the Pope

Was happy for the cash in hand.

But cynicism can't explain

            The answered prayers, the renewed hope

            Which many found within the scope

Of simple faith's eternal gain

And even if St Catherine's story

            Cannot stand the test of time

            She waits, a martyr in the line

Of meditation's mystery.

From the Abbey Church below

            The walk's enough to clear the mind

            Towards - well, if not god-inclined -

At least to thought that starts to show

Awareness, sensitivity

            To more than money, sex or food

            And all that is grotesque and lewd

In daily life's insanity.

The oratory's stone edifice

            Stands empty, yet, restored for use

            And worship, freed from the abuse

Of doctrine or the casual tourist,

Shines a light for those who come

            In search of meaning for today

            Letting silence show the way

To truth, as it has ever done.

Brian Hick August 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 15.9.23