It was, of course, St. Patrick's Day,
so they climbed - like always - "the Reek",
a lot of pilgrims were on their way,
enlightenment to seek.
The path was steep, the way was long,
but it simply had to be done.
Some people helped themselves with a song,
accompanied by the sun.
A woman, overtaking me,
she asked me how long it would take,
I didn't know for sure, you see.
Did it matter? For heaven's sake!
She stumbled and she was covered in sweat,
but she had to maintain her decision:
"And if it kills me .. I'll do it, I bet,
that was and still is my vision!"
And on she crawled, courageous and tough,
her soul expecting relief ...
(the stones were gliding like slippery stuff)
...redemption from irksome grief.
I saw the pilgrims moving away,
everywhere this shuffling sound,
I was left alone and I wanted to stay,
peacefully looking around.
I was granted (half-way) a glorious view,
a landscape ... endless and fine.
I felt illuminated ... too
and did not need a sign ... divine ...
March l7 th, 2016
*) Today is St. Patrick's Day. Irish Catholics regard it as their duty to climb St. Patrick's Mountain at least once in their
lifetime. This mountain (which is not really high, but the slippery stones are rather dangerous) is also called "The Reek",
for reasons unknown (?). I do appreciate that St. Patrick was not so fond of snakes....
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Inge Hoppe-Grabinger.
Published on e-Stories.org on 17.03.2016.
Meer uit deze categorie "Travel Stories / My Home Country" (Poems in het Engels)
Other works from Inge Hoppe-Grabinger
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