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lament

2020 Camino Guides

Kiwi-family

Veteran Member
Camino(s) past & future
Past: (2012, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2018)-Frances, Baztan, San Salvador, Primitivo, Fisterra,VdlP, Madrid
At this time there are calls to be positive (valid), calls to be lighthearted (also valid)...and I would like to suggest that for some this is a time to be disappointed. Many of us will have more moments to mull over poetry (amongst other endeavours) in the following months.

I keep a book which I have called Lament and I collect things in there that aid in the season of disappointment.
One poem is Thomas Hood's "The Song of the Shirt"
One verse in particular reminds me how fortunate I have been to be able to walk many times in Spain, around the globe, and indeed every day at home. I have never had to choose between feeding my children and taking an hour of recreation.

O! but to breathe the breath
Of the cowslip and primrose sweet—
With the sky above my head,
And the grass beneath my feet;
For only one short hour
To feel as I used to feel,
Before I knew the woes of want
And the walk that costs a meal!

But the poem I particularly want to share today is Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's one which acknowledges sadness but ends with hope. It is good to remember disappointment neither defines us, nor lasts forever.

The Rainy Day
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
 

Derrybiketours

A journey of 500 miles begins with one step!
Camino(s) past & future
SJPdeP-SANT-FIN (09/2018)
PORTO-SANT (11/2018)
Caminho Da Fe, BR (01/2019)
SJPdeP- SANT (09/2019)
But the poem I particularly want to share today is Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's one which acknowledges sadness but ends with hope.
Thankyou for sharing, it reminded me of Emily Dickinson “Hope” is the thing with feathers 🤠

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
 

VNwalking

Wandering in big circles
Camino(s) past & future
Francés ('14/'15)
San Olav/CF ('16)
Baztanés/CF ('17)
Ingles ('18)
Vasco/CF/Invierno ('19)
Lovely thread, @Kiwi-family !
To quash our disappointment in the service of forced positivity is definitely not worth doing.

Robert Frost:
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
 

notion900

Veteran Member
Camino(s) past & future
>
Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino, y nada más;
caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace camino,
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante, no hay camino,
sino estelas en la mar.


Wanderer, your footprints are
the path, and nothing else;
wanderer, there is no path,
the path is made by walking.
Walking makes the path,
and on glancing back
one sees the path
that can never be trod again.
Wanderer, there is no path—
Just a wake in the sea.

Antonio Machado 1875 - 1939
 
Camino(s) past & future
CF 2006,08,09,11,12(2),13(2),14,16(2),18(2) Aragones 11,12,VDLP 11,13,Lourdes 12,Malaga 16,Port 06
At this time there are calls to be positive (valid), calls to be lighthearted (also valid)...and I would like to suggest that for some this is a time to be disappointed. Many of us will have more moments to mull over poetry (amongst other endeavours) in the following months.

I keep a book which I have called Lament and I collect things in there that aid in the season of disappointment.
One poem is Thomas Hood's "The Song of the Shirt"
One verse in particular reminds me how fortunate I have been to be able to walk many times in Spain, around the globe, and indeed every day at home. I have never had to choose between feeding my children and taking an hour of recreation.

O! but to breathe the breath
Of the cowslip and primrose sweet—
With the sky above my head,
And the grass beneath my feet;
For only one short hour
To feel as I used to feel,
Before I knew the woes of want
And the walk that costs a meal!

But the poem I particularly want to share today is Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's one which acknowledges sadness but ends with hope. It is good to remember disappointment neither defines us, nor lasts forever.

The Rainy Day
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
Thank you for this thread.
Feeling sad all day today.
These words help
 
Last edited:
Camino(s) past & future
Frances(2006) Portugues(2013)
San Salvador (2017) Ingles (2019)
Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino, y nada más;
caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace camino,
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante, no hay camino,
sino estelas en la mar.


Wanderer, your footprints are
the path, and nothing else;
wanderer, there is no path,
the path is made by walking.
Walking makes the path,
and on glancing back
one sees the path
that can never be trod again.
Wanderer, there is no path—
Just a wake in the sea.

Antonio Machado 1875 - 1939
I looked up Estela, and it could also be a ripple, as in the wake of the boat/ship. Then it made sense. Thanks for posting it at this time. We can do with a bit of poetry, and or simple philosophical attitudes at this time.
 

SabineP

Camino = Empathy + Compassion.
Camino(s) past & future
some and then more. see my signature.
Poem by Remco Campert

Lamento

Dutch and English translation next to each other.


Very rhythmic.
 

Kanga

Moderator
Staff member
Camino(s) past & future
Francés x 5, Le Puy x 2, Arles, Tours, Norte, Madrid, Via de la Plata, Portuguese, Primitivo
Nice. My contribution is obvious, but time to trot it out again:

No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe
is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as
well as any manner of thy friends or of thine
own were; any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

MEDITATION XVII
Devotions upon Emergent Occasions
John Donne
 

Delphinoula

Active Member
Camino(s) past & future
Camino PdC 2018 Finisterre Muxía 2018
C Franconia 2019
Camino desde Algeciras Sevillia (2019)
Von guten Mächten treu und still umgeben,
behütet und getröstet wunderbar,
so will ich diese Tage mit euch leben,
und mit euch gehen in ein neues Jahr.

By loving forces...

By loving forces silently surrounded,
I feel quite soothed, secure, and filled with grace.
So I would like to live these days together,
and go with you into another year.


Dietrich Bonhoeffer
 

NorthernLight

Veteran Member
Camino(s) past & future
Le Puy to Santiago via the Frances 2012-2013. EPW2015
Aragonese & Frances 2016
Burgos to Muxia 2017
I love sad poetry!

Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson:
...
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
...
 

Theatregal

Veteran Member
Camino(s) past & future
So far...
2012 ~ 2019
Pandemic
What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.

And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.

Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.

–Lynn Ungar 3/11/20
 

Paladina

old woman of the roads
Camino(s) past & future
CF, primitivo & del norte (2017); VdlP/Sanabres, ingles etc (2018), Mozarabe etc (2019), tbc (2020)
While working unenthusiastically from home, distracted by the forest garden that surrounds me, these two poems by Mervyn Peake came to mind:

WITH PEOPLE, SO WITH TREES
With people, so with trees: where there are groups
Of either, men or trees, some will remain
Aloof while others cluster where one stoops
To breathe some dusky secret. Some complain

And some gesticulate and some are blind;
Some toss their heads above green towns; some freeze
For lack of love in copses of mankind;
Some laugh; some mourn; with people, so with trees.

CONCEIT
I heard a winter tree in song:
Its leaves were birds, a hundred strong;
When all at once it ceased to sing,
For every leaf had taken wing.
 

jl

Veteran Member
Camino(s) past & future
Frances('05, '07), Aragonese ('05), del Norte / Primitivo ('09), Via Tolosana (Toulouse '05), Via Podiensis (Le Puy '07), Via Lemovicensis (Troyes '09), VF ('12), Winter Camino ('13/'14) Cammino d'Assisi ('14) Jakobseweg (Leipzig - Paris '15) San Salvador/Norte ('15) Ignaciano ('16) Invierno ('16)
Not much is known about St Gildas (either 5th C or more likely early 6th C) but somewhere I found this pilgrim prayer attributed to him.

Pilgrims’ Prayer

In health may I and all of my companions
Safely arrive with no harm or injury –
May my boat be safe in the waves of the ocean,
My horses safe on the highways of the earth,
Our money safe as we carry it with us
To pay due heed to our poor necessities.
May our enemies fail to do harm to us,
However evil the counsels which inspire them,
In the eternal name of Christ our Master,
May my roads all lie plain before me,
Whether I climb the rugged heights of mountains,
Or descend the hollow depths of valleys,
Or trudge the lengthy roads on open country,
Or struggle through the thickets of dense forest:
May I walk always in straight ways and shining
To longed-for places . . .”
 

evanscl

Member
Camino(s) past & future
Oct 2016
Couldn’t leave Shakespare out of this thread, heres one that might help when it just feels like things arent working out as you wanted:
Sonnet XXIX
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
 

SEB2

New Member
Camino(s) past & future
CF (2015), CP (2016), part of Vasco (2019)

Above is a link to Martin Hayes' The Gloaming performing in Cork with the wonderful Irla O' Lionaird singing the traditional folk song 'Samhradh, Samhradh' in the original Irish. It's a lyrical evocation of a pastoral summer - just the thing for these dark days. I have included the words in Irish and also the English translation.

Samhradh, samhradh, bainne na ngamhna,
Thugamar féin an samhradh linn.
Samhradh buí na nóinín glégeal,
Thugamar féin an samhradh linn.

Thugamar linn é ón gcoill chraobhaigh,
Thugamar féin an samhradh linn.
Samhradh buí ó luí na gréine,
Thugamar féin an samhradh linn.

Bábóg na Bealtaine, maighdean an tSamhraidh,
Suas gach cnoc is síos gach gleann,
Cailíní maiseacha bán-gheala glégeal,
Thugamar féin an samhradh linn.

Cuileann is coll is trom is caorthann
Thugamar féin an samhradh linn.
An fuinseog ghléigeal bhéil an Átha
Thugamar féin an samhradh linn.

Samhradh, samhradh, bainne na ngamhna,
Thugamar féin an samhradh linn.
Samhradh buí na nóinín glégeal,
Thugamar féin an samhradh linn.

Bábóg na Bealtaine, maighdean an tSamhraidh,
Suas gach cnoc is síos gach gleann,
Cailíní maiseacha bán-gheala glégeal,
Thugamar féin an samhradh linn.

Samhradh, samhradh
Samhradh, samhradh
Is cé bhainfeadh dínn é?
Samhradh, samhradh
Is cé bhainfeadh dínn é?
Is cé bhainfeadh dínn é?

Ó lui na gréine

Summer, Summer, milk of the calves,
We have brought the Summer in.
Yellow summer of clear bright daisies,
We have brought the Summer in.

We brought it in from the leafy woods,
We have brought the Summer in.
Yellow Summer from the time of the sunset,
We have brought the Summer in.

Mayday doll, maiden of Summer
Up every hill and down every glen,
Beautiful girls, radiant and shining,
We have brought the Summer in.

Holly and hazel and elder and rowan,
We have brought the Summer in.
And bright ash-tree at the mouth of the Ford,
We have brought the Summer in.

Summer, Summer, milk of the calves,
We have brought the Summer in.
Yellow summer of clear bright daisies,
We have brought the Summer in.

Mayday doll, maiden of Summer
Up every hill and down every glen,
Beautiful girls, radiant and shining,
We have brought the Summer in.

Summer, summer
Summer, summer
And who'd take it from us?
Summer, summer
And who'd take it from us?
And who'd take it from us?

From the setting of the sun
 

Derrybiketours

A journey of 500 miles begins with one step!
Camino(s) past & future
SJPdeP-SANT-FIN (09/2018)
PORTO-SANT (11/2018)
Caminho Da Fe, BR (01/2019)
SJPdeP- SANT (09/2019)
I discovered The Gloaming in 2018 and that song Samhradh Samhradh accompanied me on many early morning walks that turned out to be 3 caminos back to back in France, Spain, Portugal and Brazil and never got tired of listening to it. You could say it was my spiritual song that spoke to my being, raised my vibrational level and moved my soul. The other was The Pilgrims Song by the soulful singing bard, Irla O' Lionaird and the maestro Martin Hayes 🤠

The country spoke like a temple,
Do labhair an tír mar theampall,

The river walk was bumpy,
Bhí siúl na habhann boimpéiseach,

He bowed to the knee of the valleys,
Do chrom go glúin na gleannta,

The cross was true on limbs.
Bhí fíor na croise ar ghéaga.

To hear the gospel of wind,
Le soiscéal gaoithe d'éisteas,

There was holiness on the land,
Bhí naofacht ar an dtalamh,

Here lived my first shepherd,
Anseo do mhair mo chéadshearc,

Oh the direction didn't take long.
Oh níor ghabhas an treo le fada.

Life was a fairy tale
Chonac saol mar scéal fiannaíochta

A long time ago, in the morning,
Fadó, fadó, ar maidin,

Which shaped the magic rod
A mhúnlaigh an tslat draíochta

A child has it in his hand.
A bhíonn 'na láimh ag leanbh.

The show rose,
D'aiséirigh 'na taisléine,

Light on her cheeks,
Is solas ar a leacain,

It is me who turned to me
Is do thionlaic mé go gléineach

On a pilgrimage to my soul.
Ar oilithreacht fám anam.

Here my first shepherd lived
Anseo do mhair mo chéadshearc

Oh the direction didn't take long.
Oh níor ghabhas an treo le fada.

There is a dream, I know it,
Tá aisling ann, is eol dom í,

Boiling in the womb of my imagination,
Ag fiuchadh i mbroinn mo shamhlaíochta,

A bright bodyless flame like wind,
Lasair gheal gan chorp mar ghaoith,

When begging for a suitable body.
Agus corp oiriúnach á impí aici.

 
Last edited:
Camino(s) past & future
CF 2006,08,09,11,12(2),13(2),14,16(2),18(2) Aragones 11,12,VDLP 11,13,Lourdes 12,Malaga 16,Port 06
I discovered The Gloaming in 2018 and that song Samhradh Samhradh accompanied me on many early morning walks that turned out to be 3 caminos back to back in France, Spain, Portugal and Brazil and never got tired of listening to it. You could say it was my spiritual song that spoke to my being, raised my vibrational level and moved my soul. The other was The Pilgrims Song by the soulful singing bard, Irla O' Lionaird and the maestro Martin Hayes 🤠

The country spoke like a temple,
Do labhair an tír mar theampall,

The river walk was bumpy,
Bhí siúl na habhann boimpéiseach,

He bowed to the knee of the valleys,
Do chrom go glúin na gleannta,

The cross was true on limbs.
Bhí fíor na croise ar ghéaga.

To hear the gospel of wind,
Le soiscéal gaoithe d'éisteas,

There was holiness on the land,
Bhí naofacht ar an dtalamh,

Here lived my first shepherd,
Anseo do mhair mo chéadshearc,

Oh the direction didn't take long.
Oh níor ghabhas an treo le fada.

Life was a fairy tale
Chonac saol mar scéal fiannaíochta

A long time ago, in the morning,
Fadó, fadó, ar maidin,

Which shaped the magic rod
A mhúnlaigh an tslat draíochta

A child has it in his hand.
A bhíonn 'na láimh ag leanbh.

The show rose,
D'aiséirigh 'na taisléine,

Light on her cheeks,
Is solas ar a leacain,

It is me who turned to me
Is do thionlaic mé go gléineach

On a pilgrimage to my soul.
Ar oilithreacht fám anam.

Here my first shepherd lived
Anseo do mhair mo chéadshearc

Oh the direction didn't take long.
Oh níor ghabhas an treo le fada.

There is a dream, I know it,
Tá aisling ann, is eol dom í,

Boiling in the womb of my imagination,
Ag fiuchadh i mbroinn mo shamhlaíochta,

A bright bodyless flame like wind,
Lasair gheal gan chorp mar ghaoith,

When begging for a suitable body.
Agus corp oiriúnach á impí aici.

I love this. Thank you 💓💕
 
Camino(s) past & future
Frances(2006) Portugues(2013)
San Salvador (2017) Ingles (2019)
At this time there are calls to be positive (valid), calls to be lighthearted (also valid)...and I would like to suggest that for some this is a time to be disappointed. Many of us will have more moments to mull over poetry (amongst other endeavours) in the following months.

I keep a book which I have called Lament and I collect things in there that aid in the season of disappointment.
One poem is Thomas Hood's "The Song of the Shirt"
One verse in particular reminds me how fortunate I have been to be able to walk many times in Spain, around the globe, and indeed every day at home. I have never had to choose between feeding my children and taking an hour of recreation.

O! but to breathe the breath
Of the cowslip and primrose sweet—
With the sky above my head,
And the grass beneath my feet;
For only one short hour
To feel as I used to feel,
Before I knew the woes of want
And the walk that costs a meal!

But the poem I particularly want to share today is Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's one which acknowledges sadness but ends with hope. It is good to remember disappointment neither defines us, nor lasts forever.

The Rainy Day
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
I am not sure if this is the best place, but here is something I got in an email today, and think it is worth sharing:

Brother Richard Hendrick, a Capuchin Franciscan living in Ireland, has penned a touching poem about coronavirus.

Brother Richard shared his poem "Lockdown" in a Facebook post on Friday, March 13. His original post has received more than19k positive reactions and has been shared more than 34k times.

Lockdown by Brother Richard:

Yes there is fear.

Yes there is isolation.

Yes there is panic buying.

Yes there is sickness.

Yes there is even death.

But,

They say that in Wuhan after so many years of noise

You can hear the birds again.

They say that after just a few weeks of quiet

The sky is no longer thick with fumes

But blue and grey and clear.

They say that in the streets of Assisi

People are singing to each other

across the empty squares,

keeping their windows open

so that those who are alone

may hear the sounds of family around them.

They say that a hotel in the West of Ireland

Is offering free meals and delivery to the housebound.

Today a young woman I know

is busy spreading fliers with her number

through the neighbourhood

so that the elders may have someone to call on.

Today Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and Temples

are preparing to welcome

and shelter the homeless, the sick, the weary

All over the world people are slowing down and reflecting

All over the world people are looking at their neighbours in a new way

All over the world people are waking up to a new reality

To how big we really are.

To how little control we really have.

To what really matters.

To Love.

So we pray and we remember that

Yes there is fear.

But there does not have to be hate.

Yes there is isolation.

But there does not have to be loneliness.

Yes there is panic buying.

But there does not have to be meanness.

Yes there is sickness.

But there does not have to be disease of the soul

Yes there is even death.

But there can always be a rebirth of love.

Wake to the choices you make as to how to live now.

Today, breathe.

Listen, behind the factory noises of your panic

The birds are singing again

The sky is clearing,

Spring is coming,

And we are always encompassed by Love.

Open the windows of your soul

And though you may not be able

to touch across the empty square, Sing
 

Delphinoula

Active Member
Camino(s) past & future
Camino PdC 2018 Finisterre Muxía 2018
C Franconia 2019
Camino desde Algeciras Sevillia (2019)
I am not sure if this is the best place, but here is something I got in an email today, and think it is worth sharing:

Brother Richard Hendrick, a Capuchin Franciscan living in Ireland, has penned a touching poem about coronavirus.

Brother Richard shared his poem "Lockdown" in a Facebook post on Friday, March 13. His original post has received more than19k positive reactions and has been shared more than 34k times.

Lockdown by Brother Richard:

Yes there is fear.

Yes there is isolation.

Yes there is panic buying.

Yes there is sickness.

Yes there is even death.

But,

They say that in Wuhan after so many years of noise

You can hear the birds again.

They say that after just a few weeks of quiet

The sky is no longer thick with fumes

But blue and grey and clear.

They say that in the streets of Assisi

People are singing to each other

across the empty squares,

keeping their windows open

so that those who are alone

may hear the sounds of family around them.

They say that a hotel in the West of Ireland

Is offering free meals and delivery to the housebound.

Today a young woman I know

is busy spreading fliers with her number

through the neighbourhood

so that the elders may have someone to call on.

Today Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and Temples

are preparing to welcome

and shelter the homeless, the sick, the weary

All over the world people are slowing down and reflecting

All over the world people are looking at their neighbours in a new way

All over the world people are waking up to a new reality

To how big we really are.

To how little control we really have.

To what really matters.

To Love.

So we pray and we remember that

Yes there is fear.

But there does not have to be hate.

Yes there is isolation.

But there does not have to be loneliness.

Yes there is panic buying.

But there does not have to be meanness.

Yes there is sickness.

But there does not have to be disease of the soul

Yes there is even death.

But there can always be a rebirth of love.

Wake to the choices you make as to how to live now.

Today, breathe.

Listen, behind the factory noises of your panic

The birds are singing again

The sky is clearing,

Spring is coming,

And we are always encompassed by Love.

Open the windows of your soul

And though you may not be able

to touch across the empty square, Sing
touched
 

Kiwi-family

Veteran Member
Camino(s) past & future
Past: (2012, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2018)-Frances, Baztan, San Salvador, Primitivo, Fisterra,VdlP, Madrid
@kirkie that’s fabulous.
Down here in New Zealand spring is not coming - but two days ago (when out on my morning walk) I composed a shorter (not as deep as Brother Richard’s, but equally true) poem that also links our season and the virus. It started off as a haiku, but the farther I walked, the more there was to say - I don’t know if haikus are allowed three verses!

Autumn came today,
Wind got up bringing leaves down,
Hand of God at play.

Whispering whistling
Floating fluttering falling
Voice of God calling.

Crinkling dry crunching
Covid19 threatening
God still controlling
 
Last edited:

David61

Member
Camino(s) past & future
Frances 2019
Frances (2020)
Hope is a horizon we head for, leaving nothing behind but fear. And though we may never reach our goals, it’s hope that will save us from who we once were.
 

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