Stolen from R. S. Thomas:
Enough that we are on our way;
never ask of us where.
Some of us run, some loiter;
some of us turn aside
to erect the Calvary
that is our signpost, arms
pointing in opposite directions
to bring us in the end
to the same place, so impossible
is it to escape love. Imperishable
scarecrow, recipient of our cast-offs,
shame us until what is a swear-
word only becomes at last
the word that was in the beginning.