The Exile, by Jayne Marshall

I can see you standing there

with an unlit Beacon

Looking over the Severn Plain

While three counties rest at your feet

Quietly watching, waiting,  knowing.

I see you standing there,

watching my learning, my blossoming

 my eager steps to taste

the world that was beckoning.

Did you know where I was going?

Did you know what fate had planned

The love, the hate, the passions

I would take willingly in hand

And running forward unthinking,

 Uncaring meet life head on?

Did you know about the cruel spinning winds

That would quickly lift my spirit

and just as suddenly

Drop me breaking my trust.

Where I left you standing there

 is a place of peace and comfort

In the middle of a busy land.

with a beauty that is still as clear

as the water blessed by St Anne,

that same water that washed

Victoria Regina and Alfred Lord Tennyson.

You have a beauty that still proudly

Echoes with Elgar’s song

And treasured words from Auden and Langdon.

I still see you standing there with a history profound.

With colours of deep sea green and purple ground.

Guardian, muse, medic, fused entire

You are home to me.

I left you standing there with your knowledge

Of ancient history, the iron earthworks

and a legacy of mystery.

A Royal revolution that brought an abbey

Into dissolution. Of ancient and modern secrets,

Warfare and espionage and tunnels buried

Deep inside your heart – trapped in a bone yard of politics.

Still you stand there with unending patience,

Solid granite held in the face

Of man’s altering moods.

Your hills are extending arms,

Constantly inviting, never condemning

Waiting to welcome home

An exile.                                                                                 JM