Saint Oswald and the Dying South [POETRY]

King Oswald and his host of men
Radiantly shine as they ride
In the blazing golden light
Of August’s sun. Victorious
By the Cross and Saint Columba’s prayers
At Heavenfield, fellow-worker
With Holy Aidan to spread the Gospel
In the realm of Northumberland,
Oswald hastens to his doom at Maserfield,
Struck down by pagan Penda
By the Providence of God –
The good falling to the wicked.
His beautiful body was dismembered,
But many miracles are wrought
By the sacred severed relics,
Keeping at bay the darkness of despair.
The South, near death, sees the light
Beaming from this new sun of righteousness,
From deathless Martyr Oswald,
Enthroned now with Christ in Paradise,
Through swollen eyes of battered head.
Being united to God,
Oswald’s light throbs with Life.
The South senses it, yearns for it,
Stretches forth a weak hand
Dripping with blood to grasp it . . .


. . . A spark of pain as Grace touches
The gravely wounded body,
Quickening it.
Slowly, slowly,
She begins to rise.