One evening, St. John’s Eve it was, right at the end of my journey, I came round a headland at sunset into a beautiful little bay and inlet on the west coast in Donegal, just as the fires were being lit around the headlands for St. John’s Eve, and there was drinking and fiddle playing and dancing round the fires that evening. And I asked where I was, and they said Glencolmcille, and I felt a sudden quickening and sense of connection, as though a memory stirred. And they asked me my name and I said ‘Malcolm’, and they said, ‘Ah that is why you have come, because he has called you’ . . .
To conclude our Verses for Vocation series, I’ve written a simple poem about sitting around the campfire. When I was a teenager and found myself with friends around a fire, it often felt like a magical, transcendent moment. Something about who I am and who I’m meant to be in the world emerged for me in moments like those: a sense that I’m called to help gather community around the beautiful mysteries of life.
[Thanks for reading. This post concludes our series Verses for Vocation: Poems on the Sacred in Everyday Life and Work. Check out our other posts on faith and work and spiritual growth for more resources on living an integrated Christian life. Subscribe to get the next post in your inbox.]
A Calling in September
A crackling fire at dusk
And the wind nipping at my ears
As an autumn chill embraces us.
Between the flames, these beloved faces,
Shadowed now and strangely bright,
Coax a smile from my smokeworn face.
What is this ache in my elbow?
I’ve been sitting for too long
But to stand and stretch would break the spell.
We are held here, somehow unmoveable,
Bound by the fierce sparks and gentle stars,
But we are happy; for an hour, we belong.
Post image: Photo by Joris Voeten on Unsplash.
Series image: The Stevedores in Arles (Coal Barges) by Vincent van Gogh, 1888.
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