[Camino Poem 27a] Bring Me Sunshine

This is an 'extra entry' within a series of 42 posts about the poems which carried me along the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route in Aug-Sep 2016. It is about a poem that I wrote whilst in Camponaraya, on the 27th day of walking. 

A few times on the trip, my visit to a town had co-incided with the end-of-summer fiesta. Each time, I had taken a look, but inhibitions and over-walked legs asked me not to stay long (once I got a second-chance: the party was still going when I started my journey the next morning!). 

[Camino Poem No. 27] Psalm 139

This is the 27th of 42 posts about the poems which carried me along the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route in Aug-Sep 2016. On this (the 27th) day, I walked 26km from El Acebo to Camponaraya. 

Frequently, I wonder why I do this. This, being pilgrimage, but also things like meditation and therapy. 'This' seeming to involve a lot of pain (think: the trauma and vomit in Rabanal). What I tell myself is, 'I am opening. Opening to feel what is there. Opening to life. And yes, some of that will be hard, very hard. But there is also the beauty - you get to open to that too.'

This day was testament to that promise. I was astonished by the joy of walking and talking with my new-found friend. Remember the dawn? The descent through the mountain shadows? How our words were so alive that we did not so much walk but glide?

[Camino Poem No. 26] The Lake Isle of Innisfree

This is the 26th of 42 posts about the poems that carried me along the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route in Aug-Sep 2016. On this (the 26th) day, I walked 17km from Rabanal to El Acebo. 

I woke feeling raw and weak after the ordeal of the night before. Fearing I would not keep it down, I did not eat. What could I do but keep walking?

It so happened that today's path went up, and up. Up, in fact, to the highest point on the camino - the Cruz De Ferro. For years, pilgrims have been depositing stones there, as a way of representing the 'putting down' of some burden that they were carrying. There is a large wooden cross, now surrounded by a mound of stones so high you can climb it.

[Camino Poem No. 25] After great pain, a formal feeling comes

This is the 25th of 42 posts about the poems that carried me along the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route in Aug-Sep 2016. On this (the 25th) day, I walked 38km from Hospital del Orbigo to Rabanal. 

'Will! Do you have a poem for us today?'.

Calling out to me from a cafe on the way in to Astorga were Susanna and Clare, two women who I had met previously (and briefly) some two and a half weeks before. They remembered my poetry project!

[Camino Poem No. 24] When You Are Old

This is the 24th of 42 posts about the poems which carried me along the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route in Aug-Sep 2017. On this (the 24th) day, I walked 36km from Leon to Hospital del Orbigo. 

At about 3pm, I sat down in an endless maize field, resigned. It was a grim day, blustery, grey and chilly. 'Why am I here?', I heard myself ask, and it was not just about the camino.

Over dinner I finally ventured into conversation, and was rewarded with the company of an Italian pilgrim in his 20s. We talked about philosophy, and the power of questions - the beauty of opening to unknowns. For example: it being ok to 'not know' why you are getting up every day and walking West.

[Camino Poem No. 23] Desiderata

This is the 23rd of 42 posts about the poems that carried me along the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route in Aug-Sep 2016. On this (the 23rd) day, I walked 18km from Mansilla to Leon. 

A cold day. Much of the walking was alongside busy roads as we approached the city of Leon. 

Resting in the hostel, hot tears. On my previous camino, I was greeted here by a group of dear friends. This time, I recognized no-one in the cavernous dorm rooms. I had been choosing solitude and had barely had a conversation in the past week.

[Camino Poem No. 22] Walking Around

This is the 22nd of 42 posts about the poems that carried me along the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route in Aug-Sep 2016. On this (the 22nd day), I walked 37km from Sahagun to Mansilla de las Mulas. 

Today, horizontal rain. Streets blowing dust into my eyes. My summer clothes not warm enough by far. All I could think of was the final lines of Inversnaid - after weeks of stale heat, I was delighted for the fresh wildness.

Spent much of my long walking reading poems out loud, singing to myself, and listening to the clearing skies. Gone were the tight hips and knees - I walked, and I walked and I walked.