A pilgrimage of the heart,
an errand of the spirit
I will take a morning walk
and knock on my friend’s door,
lean on a tree, feel the root’s vibrations.
I will fold my hands and listen to stories:
People walking, their pockets heavy with stones,
birds singing sad songs and hiding their wings from the sun
riverbeds with broken porcelains,
multi-syllabic prayers uttered in silence at Angelus.
A child and a lady smile and wave
when I pass by on my way home
on the sidewalk with wild flowers
blooming next to the iron fence.
I have been walking to the river again since 4 days ago. I did not walk today.