We leave in two days.
Fr. Joe blessed bink's and my pilgrim feet last night at Merlins Rest. (Cathy's feet are going on a different trip and got a blessing too.)
This poem feels perfect for the Camino, a big dumb happy effort.
by Ruth L. Schwartz
Nothing is ever too hard for a dog,
all big dumb happiness and effort.
This one keeps swimming out into the
icy water for a stick,
he'd do it all day and all night
if you'd throw it that long,
he'd do it till it killed him, then he'd die
dripping and shining, a black waterfall,
the soggy broken stick still clenched
in his doggy teeth,
and watching him you want to cry
for all the wanting you've forsworn,
and how, when he hits deeper water,
his body surges suddenly, as if to say
Nothing could stop me now --
while you're still thinking everything
you've ever loved
meant giving up some other thing you loved,
your hand, the stick stuck in the air,
in the shining air.
from Ruth L. Schwartz, Edgewater, New York, NY: HarperCollins, 2002.
I found this poem in an essay about RLS, "Calling Out God and America" on Alan W. King's Blog.
[You might also like Schwartz's poem "Oh God, Fuck Me".]