Pilgrim Path

This blog is the work of a seeker and poet. Walking stick in hand, I head out into the world, not of the world, but in the world. My words and my friends carry me along and light the pilgrim path of spiritual journeys.

Thursday, October 05, 2006


It could have been a journey
of triumph; a homecoming
in glory and joy
with wild dancing and timbrel playing.
His victory earned, the Messiah crowned.
Gone - with a denial and a single dark arrest.

Now, a dusty, cold, dark road home.
Large black birds perched on bare trees,
their voices chill us.
Pressing our shoulders together,
we adjust our wraps
to cover our necks and faces.

Speaking in low whispers,
fearing the power of dangerous words.
The road crunches beneath our feet
making sure we remember
the futility of hope,
and the weight of our dreams.

Then, the image of a man approaching,
fully cloaked as we,
alone on this deserted road.
A soldier in disguise, perhaps,
following us home,
to uncover others who weep this sad day.

But a foe wouldn’t travel alone.
Despite our dark mood,
soft words echo in our hearts
and we greet this stranger as if our brother.
We embrace this man living out of time;
unaware of the tragedy just a few miles away.

We beckon him come home with us,
to share a meal and shelter.
Lessons well learned stir a hope
dared once again in our hearts.
This feels familiar; we lift our heads
and watch the road home grow shorter.


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