There Is No Road



Traveler, your footprints
are the only road, nothing else.
Traveler, there is no road;
you make your own path as you walk.
As you walk, you make your own road,
and when you look back
you see the path
you will never travel again.
Traveler, there is no road;
only a ship’s wake on the sea.
~ Antonio Machado, Caminante, No Hay Camino *


I don’t think I know even one actual refugee personally. How about you?

I don’t think I have any idea how difficult escaping from the country of your birth and walking thousands of miles, or sailing on over-crowded, open boats on the rough ocean must be for those who do it.

Leaving behind everyone you love, everything you know, your language, your reputation, your accomplishments, to begin somewhere new, somewhere you are not always welcomed.

I think most of us have ancestors who made this journey at some point in the past, for us, for the future they did not even know yet, for the hope of a better life.

I’m going to try to do better at this.



*I was introduced to this beautiful poem by the Ann Friedman Weekly, which you can subscribe to HERE.