Pilgrimage Verse

Rachel walked the pilgrimage from London to Canterbury to raise money for The Connection. She’s written 2 beautiful poems describing the experience.

The Evening Routine
We sit on chairs
Like sparrows on a branch,
Our white legs exposed
Like almonds just blanched,
As we patiently wait for the
Bowls of warm water that welcome our feet,
So we can paddle like Englishmen
In rare summer heat.
Then the podiatrists set to
With scissors and wadding,
Rubber gloves and scalpels,
Sprays and padding,
They pierce and cleanse
As they patch and mend,
Protecting our toes
As they talk and tend.
Then off we hobble to take a shower,
And emerge freshly dressed
To enjoy communal food
And some communal rest.
But the grunts and the snores
And some creaking camp beds,
The comings and goings
And the tossing of heads,
Make sleep elusive
And interrupt dreams,
Make earplugs a necessity,
As dawn comes on stream.

Rachel French

Village and Church Hall Welcome.
Eager ladies all coiffed and ready
Serve up tea to the weak and unsteady.
From the steaming urn
They fill the giant teapot,
Pour out the brew
Already milked and hot.
Filled to bursting with ham or cheese.
Salad or egg or whatever you please,
Are plates of sandwiches
Or buttered baguettes,
Or soft fresh rolls
Served with paper serviettes.
Then there’s teatime, with cakes galore,
Sponges and flapjacks, fruit cake and more,
Bakewell tarts and brownies,
Cheese scones and gateau,
Cakes with frosted icing,
Cakes to die for.

Rachel French

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This entry was posted in Art, health, homeless, poem, walking and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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