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’ rancorus tunder.

A place called home it cannae 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 still then 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 their weary head,

on th’ way tae bend their knees tae a man worthy o’ this geste

No man knows its name

Yet every man knows its situation,

A gentle path by a river stream

Beneath th’ tunnel o’ trees

Nah far beyon’ th’ olive groves,

Within th’ memories of th’ sea

No home tae sin, no home tae pain

No watch list need man tae fear.

A welcome tae believers

A welcome tae 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,

Tae seek th’ pathways o’ th’ winds

Where th’ 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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