Sanctuary on the Via de Santiago

Whe’ wrathful blows th’ foamy

An’ th’ win` cuts tae th’ marrow

An’ th’ clouds drap doon thair ire

wi’ a mighty fis’ and breath.

Come seek for th’ sheltering bosom

‘yon th’ wavy tunder.

A place called home it kin nae be

it may be a place o’ shelter all th’ same

hidden behin’ th’ soun’s o’ surf

hidden below th’ gusts o’ win’

a place made safe by men o’ cloth

safer since the day o’ birth

a place tae welcome men o’ peace

and men o’ wealthy means

a welcome station tae all in need

a place where pilgrims lay secure

on th’ way tea bend their knees

tae man worthy o’ this geste

No one knows its name

Yet everyone knows its place

A gentle path by a river stream

Beneath th’ tunnel of trees

Nah far beyond th’ olive groves

Within th’ memories of th’ sea

No home tae sin, no home tae pain

No watch list made man tae fear

A welcome tea believers

A welcome tea th’ pilgrim man

A welcome tae th’ peregrine

Who walks without a course

There ye rest until th’ morn

Till need thee rest no more

Tea seek th’ pathways o’ th’ winds

Or tree line be far below

Tae seek ye audience with th’ sun

Tae hear th’ wisdom of th’ evenin win’

Tae find yourself th’ constant star

Tae guide yee tae your place called home

About jedwardnajera

I am an artist and a Poet. I live the life of a poet. I published several novels. Nena the Fairy and the Iron Rose, Dust of the Moon are among them, available through Amazon Books. I have spent over thirty five years in a classroom. I am now retired from that profession. My father kept a living record of his lifetime as he lived through the Twentieth Century. He was born in 1908 and almost lived long enough to see us enter the new millennium. He entrusted to me nearly 400 pages that he wrote through the years. Now I am continuing the tradition by posting my own stories and misadventures. I am trying to post a new entry or chapter each Friday. Check in on us at least once a week for the latest post.
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