Part One
One of the Irish nuns in the Heart,
of Jesus, when her white skirt
when down to the lace edges
which dusted the thick green grass,
learned to walk in Tyburn fields
as this was done, by many families
in London, wanting their children
to walk the walk of the martyrs.
Her baby footsteps measured out
the paths of Campion, Southwell,
Sherwin, Ward, all who went before
with sometimes gnarled toes and
bleeding legs. Yet, little Celt cooed
and walked and finally ran about
the tender grasses on the edge of
Marble Arch, her parents savvy
to the ways of the world. Her
formation began young. Her play-
fellows in the sun reaching out for
Faith as they reached out to their
parents of the promise-those who
took vows at the font seriously.
Where are those parents now?
Who is leading the little ones
to learn the Ave and Pater and
the life of goodness, as the little
one with the flowing hair did
long ago? Her soul is assured
salvation and the day of eternal
Pascha rosatum sees her
standing with the golden virgins
at the foot of the Eucharistic Throne.
Part Two
Little Margaret munching on
a clover, not seeing her future
martyrdom within the walls
on the edge of Bainiardus'
land, a tenant of the Abbot
foreshadowing even then
Benedict's Rule but rudely
taken when called Bear's Watering,
taken like the lives of so many
whose blood filled the rills
under toddler Meg's white shoes.
She is now dust in her black habit.
but remembered for her first
steps, the steps of virtue
all made in the place of springs
like Fountains, like Glastonbury
and today memories or even
forgotten by the shopping crowds
and youth jogging over the same
paths. No announcement of fiery
tongues capture their imaginations,
long stuffed with the goo of satan.
Margaret's Pentecost discovered
only by those who stop and listen.
Oswulf's Stone lies in their hearts
because their mothers, their fathers
did not take them to Tyburn to
learn how to walk and so they
run to a different place, away from
Margaret's peace in the land of
the Spirit, where she sings and runs
with the Wind, like horses of heaven.
