A clapper sounds
The silence instantly transformed
By the bell’s calling,
Echoing inwardly and out:
Something heard.
Each flag unique
Along a pilgrim’s way:
Each step a turning–point with its own timbre;
Touched and trodden.
Something lived.
My path a map of many colours;
Beacons emerging from a sheet of life,
Each torn-out space a window for new Light
A crazy peal, rejoicing.
Beckoning on.
by Linda Murgatroyd
From her essay,
"The Future of Quakers in Britain:
Holding Spaces for the Spirit to Act."
The full text can be found here: The Friend Essay Competition
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