Looking Back

June 1982

God be in my head and my understanding
-       Roland J Portchmouth

If I walk the wild moors and meet no one
         or climb the bare hills and hear no one
or sail the high seas and see nothing but the wild water
          I shall meet you there:

          On the loneliest stretch of the moor
               On the barest hill top
          On the wildest waste of water
               I shall always find you.

You are at the heart of loneliness
          where the only other traveller with me is the wind;
You are on the bleakest upland of my journey
          where the only other who comes with me is the silence;
You are on the blackest deeps of my voyage
          where the only other with me is the slowly moving and bottomless abyss.

You are who made the empty moor
          at the centre, filling it;
You who lifted the long hills
          are at the longest fold of their shadows;
You who spread out the sea
          are at the falling of the farthest wave.

You are the One each wanderer of the world will meet
          where there is no other;
You are the only visitor who comes
          when no one else does;
On the world’s tired road through homelessness
          You are the home at the roadside they nearly miss.

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