A Real Peregrino

A real peregrino doesn’t crack a smile
When you talk of vino tintos and cafe con leche
Drinking in scattered bars along the way

A real peregrino is never muy frio
He knows being cold is part of his journey.
Flip flops slopping down albergue corridors
He walks to mass and comida and off to bed.

In the cold dawn light he sits straight up
Feet into boots,beanie on head
Rattles his plastic bags into his pack
Grabs his sticks and clops down the corridors
To the icy outside to face another long day .
No slacking for him
No breakfast
No sitting over coffee and yarns
He’s a man on a mission.

A real peregrino recognises
Those who are not real peregrinos
Those who have come along for the ride
He knows God is not on their side.
Those cheery ones who may be touristicos
Spoiling the Way,
Who do not pray.
Only thoughts of God are in his head,and avoiding hell
A real peregrino doesn’t feel the chill of the monks cell.

I wonder if God knows
Who is real and who is not
Does he care?

“Buen camino”prays the priest
“Ve con Dio “he murmurs
To all of us standing heads bowed
May God be with your steps along the way.

I know He is
Real peregrino or not.

The long road