Los Santos del Mañana By Bill Dwyer I composed this poem as I walked the Camino Frances in April 2019. This was the second time I have walked the Camino Frances. I have also walked the Camino Portugues and the Camino Ingles. I planned, in April 2020, to walk from Bayonne then pick up the Frances from Pamplona. The Covid 19 pandemic stopped that and I do not think it is likely to happen in April 2021. So, I live in hope for April 2022. The spires of cards in verse four refers to April 2019 as I was on the Camino. The cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris burnt down. I thought how these magnificent structures that stride Europe were the civic as well as spiritual enterprises of Man. The real tribute of this poem is to Los Santos of the title and the last line. Where pilgrims once walked with their world in a sack They now have mochilas that mould to the back No hessian now to shade from the heat Smart fabric and Compeed that moulds to the feet And what were they like those pilgrims back then Were they all pious penitent saintly stooped men Did they make a soul friend by the end of the Way Or the chattering pest who just talked through the day Ever drank too much wine or got into a fight Belched at the table or broke wind at night Was there ever the one who just went too far And tried to make out with the maid at the bar Where the westerly way still winds so hard Wending towards the great spires of cards For some future hope or to ease some past sorrow Or perhaps just to walk with the saints of tomorrow Por una tristeza pasada o alguna esperanza O para caminar con Los Santos del Mañana Bill Dwyer April 2019 Manage Cookie Preferences