This poem is called, ‘Camino’.

It is about the answers I thought I would find from walking on my own. But, only discovered once I took a journey in league with therapy:

The pilgrimage I made,
no destination stayed,
other than the circles,
run around,
my broken pieces.

I stepped on cracks,
in pavement slabs,
where deep purple,
run aground,
reddy-blue releases.

The red was raw,
the blue was bleak,
the purple,
it filled my brogues.
With vacant sores,
that through me leaked,

an emptiness;
to my soul.

I walked and walked,
for miles and miles,
convinced that, I,
rich with cogence, wasn’t;
searching only for,
those lonely whiles;
that litter the poor,
old roads of prophets.

So, today, I bide,
hand-in-hand, alongside,
with those that I;
crawled with first,
then, strolled, and ran.

Together, we remain in unjaded lanes,
me and my broken pieces.

Yet, I never took the strides,
to, truly, understand
them until now.
And, now, we know;
what peace is.

© poormansdreams