I come in the night
Asking for my lack, as pilgrims do-
Straight spine,
Clever pen,

I have nothing for payment, but gifts are supposed to be free.

In the dark you chuckle.
I can see nothing, but you smell thick in the air-
A secret garden only the dead may know.

“You already have all, child. Next.”

I leave with the exact things in my hand
I have had since the start, but I
Smell better now.

I begin my journey home.



Filed under Faith, Poetry, Some Thoughts, writing

3 responses to “Pilgrimage

  1. Amanda,
    Can you annotate this? I want to better understand.
    In Him,

  2. Sure, Maria!
    Basically, I realized that so much of the time, the stuff I spend so much time asking for are the wrong things. I have the body He wants me to have, the talents He wants me to have, all the love I could possibly want or need from Him. But it’s worth the asking, because I learn more, I “smell better”- more of Him wears off on me, with the asking.
    Was there anything specific you were wondering about? I’m more than happy to answer questions.

    • I see. No, no more questions. You’ve done a good job answering, Amanda. I’m just so used to your prose voice that this was unexpected, and like all poetry had elements of mystery. So I wondered, why is this writer of jocular prose taking a poetic flight? Glad you did. Glad you’re okay, and your insights are understood.

      Blanca the chihuhua sends greetings to Lady Cambria!

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