Carmeilina Fernandes-Kock am Brink
Journey
A second week confined finds me
Unearthing those sticks I
Use to steady my ascent
In the way of extra limbs that lend a spring. A goatherd´s step.
Finds me scraping old boots well
Broken into,
My feet rarely slipping on the
Bed of rocks I cross before bending, hands cupped
To quench my thirst.
I am so ready now to strike out and climb,
Soak in the grazing of plateaus, echo
The clonking of bells, belt out a refrain, inhale
The green meadows, meet
Ancient villages below. A lithe butterfly
Strapped onto my back the whole weightlessness
Of a single change of clothes,
Just one t-shirt that dries overnight
And a light raincoat. You never know,
The Camino stretches out one thousand kilometres to Compostela
Through mud and time. I would halt at plain or ornate
Pumps, in the centre of towns, fountains
Spilling wine.
And at night, from the pillow of my hotel bed
I´d mull over the nature of self,
Isolated. Imagine the lone
Pilgrim, plodding along, bent, until arriving home,
Santiago, where, arms outstretched from a body
Broken
He would have laughed, and wept.
—Submitted on 03/25/2020
Carmeilina Fernandes-Kock am Brink is of German-Indian background, grew up in Canada, and teaches English in Toulouse, France.
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