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 02, 2008


This Sunday morning, I’ll sit outside
and listen to the old women sing.
Falsetto voices mix with raspy croaks
to tell a deeper story. In their voices,
I hear the whoops of young girls
skipping rope, giggling when
a cute boy passes. The soft lilt
of the first words of flirtation
turning to scorn when suitors
turn away. The breathy excitement
as “I will” becomes “I do”
and a voice that quickly sings a gentle lullaby.
The 3am whispers that plead for rest
while another life grows in her belly.
Tears of joy and anger when it all
becomes too much. A hushed prayer
to lift this burden if only for a while
answered by the cries of an infant
child of her own daughter. Sitting in a pew
on Sunday morning, holding this new
life about to be washed in the water, smiling
as together they listen to the old women sing.

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