Jackie Tevlin, a Margaret Beaufort Institute student submitted this lovely poem after attending Sophia Study Day in November 2020 led by Dominic White OP.  Thank you, Jackie!

Who is Sophia?

And where is she now?

i. Leaf green prancing playfully in the early Summer breeze

Sighs wistfully with a longing for today to be still

Be held by O! Creator God of the unseasonal falling

Let us revere Your Majesty in this sense of place

It is not Autumn’s season yet

It is not the turning of the page

And it is not time for us to die.

ii.  A rose – cardinal red – greets me

On the view fully prayerful window ledge

And I sigh, in gratitude at the kindly thought

This is all-in-all for me.

Blush-pink petals unfurl revealing pure intent

Fragrance of blessed memories still to be

Drawing me

Onward into our, with words, cobalt now pictures

Sinking us into a tranquil inky pool

Of   indigo-violet,  viridian, revelation

iii  Ochre egg-shaped  like marble - St Ignatius’ noble dome

Hair cascading mane-like – out of control;

A forest fire of dry bracken

The colour of a meridian line transecting

Our country with incendiary flames

Of burnished gold

And interlinking O’s. The egg

A womb [rather than a tomb]

With a view – the new birth .

iv.  Who is Sophia?

Why does she sleep-walk through our dreams

Lacing the aquamarine night

Bright - with lemon yellow sherbet,

Dabs of  sparkling effervescent  Angel-light.

Nurture me my Lady of Compassion

And the violet twilight eyes –

And I will return the compliment.

Complement my sight and seeking

And I will, I promise

See

You safely to a wooden oak

Front door –by Saint Michael’s holy

Sword, I will, I promise

So long as I pick up the gunmetal grey

Hefty iron key.

v.  When was your rugged terracotta

Earth invaded so? Burnt umber man!

And by whom? Who was your enemy?

Gauls? Goths or Vandals or faceless Viking

Warriors in  steel helmets still

Now at Sutton Hoo? In warship and deathship

worshipping

Angry demanding deities

Seeking vengeance

Without reprieve or loss of face.

vi.  Who is Sophia?

Did the vines flourish along the chalk-white wall

And did the olive figs multiply?

Does it all now seem to be so much

Stale bread and sour vinegar wine?

Shall we grovel in the concrete dust

In the parched worn out colours

Of dry heat – shall we sweat and know the bitter taste

Of grim, dull, jet-black, defeat.

vii.  Face to face with our Redeemer

God is the only way to have a conversation;

Eyeball to eyeball  – if you dare to

Risk an unpredictable tomato red temper .

It is best not to annoy with insincerity

And flaccid thoughts and indifferent

 Dingo dun-coloured deeds.

Promises are made

And kept in sweetheart lockets.

And Sophia looses down her

Pearl pins from her braided hair

And reaches out the joy of perpetual

Loving  rainbow

New beginnings.

 

 And we kneel in the tears

Of resurrected joy

And kiss the feet of God.

 

Amen

Jacqueline M. Tevlin

St Beuno’s Retreat Centre

North Wales

Room 24

5th July 2012-07-06

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