We’ve a couple of friends who have walked El Camino, the pilgrimage from S. Jean Pied de Port in France to Santiago de Compostela in Northern Spain, my husband did this a couple of years ago, and another friend is hoping/planning to go …
THE WAY HE WENT
walked out the door 
and took to the road
past limped signposts
u-turned highways
careless of endings
only wanting to find
the next excitement
alberge pasta vino
he met coal heavers
beggars barkers butchers
lords and red-haired Scots
with a song and a prayer
weaving lanes and byways
past markets and mountains
bowing to plumbers
drivers and thieves
with un-ending gossip
shared from tongue to tongue
‘A Bedroom of Searchlights’: poetry. This collection draws a picture of the poet’s divorced mother, an artist with two children, who struggled with poverty, war, and the realities of daily life, yet still found beauty and comfort in her garden, and her art.
we all know, even have been someone like that, someday
Yes, we’re all really on a pilgrimage of one kind or another.