This is my land and I cherish it. It has nurtured me in so many ways. I have so many memories, going back to my earliest days Gnarled trees bent eastwards by the wind, like old men going to church The oak, the sycamore and not forgetting the beautiful silver birch The ever-changing greens on the hillsides that never seem to end Sparkling rivers, bubbling streams, silver bracelets, round an old friend. The long wide solitary beaches, ever the same, yet also surprising The plaintive cry of the lonely curlew in the land of the far horizon The green rounded hills of ancient volcanoes, the sun setting in the west The shy streams and wonderful waterfalls hiding in the forest Purple heather in August, blue Kielder Water and the green trees Like an army standing to attention, swaying gently in the breeze
The land of St Cuthbert who taught his people to revere the life and the land
Where you can be alone with Creation and learn to understand
The land of the Gospels where so much natural beauty and art merge
Where you can hear Creation speak to you, and in its gentle whisper, urge
You to remember that we all have only one home in the Universe
And not to damage it anymore, and not to make things worse
The beautiful, sad earth is groaning and the birds are softly crying
Our wonderful world is no longer healthy, but instead it is slowly dying
When you hear the lonely cry of the solitary curlew as he sings
You see how the sacred wilderness can teach us holy things
You see what will be lost by our simple lack of thought
You see how the world we live in simply can’t be bought
Peter Sagar
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