He walked deep burdened .
prayed for light
until he found a door
that opened to his needs that night.
He swayed before he sat,
worn threadbare thin his soul ,
now speechless .
Ten fingers were my means to find
identity : the thumb signed A ,
the little finger E , the other twenty – two
spelled out address of John .
Still I knew not why he walked so far that night
from wife or family or friends .
When next we met around his fire
night’s pilgrimage was clear :
a slate wiped clean by Lord above .
His deep down clear desire :
be reconciled with kith and kin
to freely follow pilgrim’s ways
in Christian company .