Here’s the final poem in the Winchester series. It marks the end of our one hundred mile walk from Eastbourne to Winchester…which took us a long time!
III Two Walkers
The path delivers us, worn weary
With all the walking, down the last long hopper
Of the rolling trail. And so we are harvested
Earthy as rough grain
From the wind & rain of the track.
We are come to the end of a pilgrimage.
We are come home, come back.
Now buffeted & footsore
We are refined like wheat,
Sifted like fine white flour,
Now shaking the dust from our coats, our feet.
Worn, yes, but reborn on reaching
The end of the long southern ridge:
The end of our South Downs pilgrimage.
© Lizzie Ballagher