Dawn on Iona

During my gap year, I spent three months on the Isle of Iona as a volunteer with the Iona Community. I loved the tiny island, and felt very inspired by the landscape, the sea and the abbey. Since my early writings as a nine year old, I hadn’t written much more poetry, at least nothing worth sharing. My time on Iona reminded me of my interest in poetry, and I set out to capture the moon and the sun, and their intrinsic part in the raw spirituality of the island.


All is calm and still,

As a light wind picks its way

Delicately through the flowers.

The earth sighs of passing hours

As the moon’s sleepy head

Droops slowly into bed.



The moon appears slowly,

Sliding between the clouds,

Allowing those unholy

To use shadows as shrouds.

The night turns cold,

The moon becomes bold.

And darkness deepens.
The sun swiftly appears

Striding through the clouds,

Banishing the fears

Of the scared and the proud.

Fire scours away the night

Turning horizons alight

With golden magnificence.




Pitch black.


Too quiet.
The world waits

With bated breath

For that first glimmer

Of light,

Of hope,

Of new beginnings.