I read Luke’s research paper, Lord,
And read about how we must
Turn our backs to our nearest
And dearest. Is that what You meant
When I went overseas and took
One of those Summer Isles on the Sea of Glass
And built a chapel, a hermitage,
Far away from soldier oppressors?

I have visitors now, different brothers and sisters,
New mothers and fathers: in You, Lord.

There are the prayerful on all the islands
And pilgrims take their pick, leaving
Useless coins and scraps of velum,
But we love them in Your name and bring their names to You.