3. Your Friend, Simple Act & Counting Chickens
- cherylmurfin
- Dec 27, 2018
- 2 min read
Your friend
Remember
When I told you
About this road I wanted to walk
Because I read somewhere
It’s a good place to search for God
If she’s out there
Or my own truth if she isn’t?
Remember
When I stressed,
It goes many, many, miles
And by many, I meant hundreds
Which is a lot of time together
Even for people in the highest of spirits
And especially for those in the lowest.
Remember
When I said that if I had
Just one word to describe myself
I’d cheat and use a hyphen for “semi-monastic?”
Which is to say I hoped to walk alone a lot
To get lost in my own experience.
Remember
When I explained
That the road is unique to everyone?
That even Siamese twins walking the same path
Would head in different directions?
When I warned that we each must carry whatever we bring,
No matter how heavy, and get comfortable with discomfort?
Remember
When I asked you about all of this?
When I said I need my walk to be about me, not you, OK?
And you shook your head yes and said, “OK.”
OK, which I interpreted as understanding.
OK, which I took as consent.
OK, which I heard as “I will take care of myself.”
Tell me
At what point did you mishear or I misstate
The rules of this road?
And who invited your friend Depression along
After he showed up unannounced while we were still packing?
~ Cheryl Murfin, along the Camino de Santiago
Simple Act
i can see now
there is power
in the simple act
of putting one foot
in front of the other
and moving forward
in any direction
~ Cheryl Murfin, along the Camino de Santiago
Counting Chickens
How carefully
I must enjoy
Your boosted spirits
And that authentic smile
Across your lips
When you stop to scratch a dog
Carefully I say
Because
I must be ready
Just in case
The fog you feel lifting
Is really a hurricane
Hanging off the coast
Or that sweet old dog
Is old but hungry
And kills the chickens
I so yearn to start counting
At the first upward curl
Of your lips
~ Cheryl Murfin, along the Camino de Santiago
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