Shut not open
Home not gone
I begin
Up hills
Becoming mountains
Of loneliness
Turned to contemplation,
Prayer
Talked to myself
Answered
Sang half songs
I remembered
Hummed the rest
Nights came
Cooked one pot meals
Ate lots of pasta
Baked cinnamon apples
Slept exhausted
From nothing
I am on trail
On trial,
Sentenced to learn
I stop at my own altar
Hear my own confession
My penance
To experience
Loneliness,
Compassion
Empathy
Of others.
Say buen Camino to my contact list
Of home pilgrims
Send photos of flowers and trees
In my garden
Let people know
I am OK.
I am on my Camino.
© Elin Babcock. All rights reserved.
What kind of world are we living in When the color of the skin When the choice of worshiping is different And because of...
She is the one who keeps watch over the rhythm of life, fine tuning and re-tuning resonating the musical calm inside the chaos of...
Run through the Universe and return Return with the wisdom that you sought And share it with all The time is now to bring...