featured image
A short poetic pilgrimage.
Holy Mile at Walsingham

Traditionally, you should walk
the mile between the shrines

unstrapped, eased off,
bare soles tender on the gravel,
the arid road;

after a hundred steps or so
you become inured to the slow
low level pain –

a Volvo estate zooms past
with its doppler rocktunes
then a fat tractor –

the grassy verge serves
as emergency redemption

look at you

two women pushing prams
bustle in the other direction

fullofgrace fullofgrace

the heat keeps on

you start to crave tea
pots of the stuff

you sense past pilgrims

fullofgrace fullofgrace

now colder mudspots maybe cows
or horses there before you –

jagged pebbles
sharp as tacks



over an hour must be nearly –
silly to give up now

one hand rosary one hand sandals
no reception –

only the swerve of the dirt path
a modest wooden gate

then a damp alley through shadows to
low-light beeswax –
blue-gold throne room –

soft as slippers

cover photo courtesy of Roman Skrypnyk.

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About the Author


Sarah Law

London, UK

Sarah Law is fascinated by saints, sinners, and the twists and turns of language. She lives in London and edits the online journal Amethyst Review for new writing engaging with the sacred.