The Landing, by Lizzie Ballagher

The Landing of St. Patrick in Ireland, by Frederick Cayley Robinson (UK) 1912

​The Landing

           No fisherman, he,
though his boat glides below a fishbone moon
suspended in the east behind him,
thin moon that stains a moss-still sea:
soft as silence,
silver as serenity.

           Where the bow meets the salted dock
he has come to the place of his slavery
among a barbarous, knotted people:
to cast moon-shadows deep 
into the waters of baptism;
to lift instead the lamp of grace, of peace--
so to illumine their hearts.

           Murmurous, they descend     
the tumbling cliff: twisted, rough
as trunks and earthen roots of trees,
with glances over turned shoulders,
blades whetted at the ready:

           to confront a man who comes 
with hands empty of all but prayer,
though with a longing for their souls;
one who stands in the shadow 
of crucified and hanging sails

          who is lit by a radiance brighter 
than the fullest moon, the sea, or any star,
ignited with a passion fiercer 
than their weapons 
or the clamour of their war-mongering;

          bearing truth more salt, 
more sharp, than dagger blades.

​Lizzie Ballagher

A published novelist between 1984 and 1996 in North America, the UK, Netherlands and Sweden (pen-name Elizabeth Gibson), Lizzie Ballagher now writes poetry rather than fiction. Her work has been featured in a variety of publications, including South-East Walker Magazine, Far East, Nitrogen House, The Ekphrastic Review, Nine Muses,  and Poetry Space.