James and Thomas, Ordinary, Homely Names

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem 

That which travels

Clouds itself.  ~ Lorca, “Running,” (Corriente)

The pilgrimage to Santiago or

To Canterbury tries to clear the soul.

It walks and searches wanting to adore

Some essence, something spiritually whole.

Along the way stretch semi-arid crops

Of prickles, thorns, or maybe even worse

Like Burger Kings on motorways.  Rest stops

Ensnare with simple needs, not quite a curse

But not the point.  An ordinary prayer

Might waylay seekers who are on the way

To serendipity or more.  A snare

Awaits unwary ones as doubters’ prey.

  The gospel says keep trudging on, one pace

    In front, in front.  The glow is not some race.

~ Phillip Whidden