A most unusual friend inspired this poem, my 8th villanelle. The descriptions aren’t exactly accurate, but this is intentional. For instance, my friend has never used a walking stick. No, you might think of this poem as an impressionist depiction of who he is, or at least of who I see him to be.
Pilgrim
For Derham Giuliani
Lonesome pilgrim on the path, where does the journey end?
With eyes on distant clouds, across the broad horizon,
Firm you grasp a walking stick, and wander with the wind.
Since you left the seething swarm, a peace has filled your mind;
Beneath the sprawling stars you watch the turning heavens—
Lonesome pilgrim on the path, where does the journey end?
Wisdom lights your countenance, where thoughts are unconcerned;
Each morning fills your view with glowing gold or crimson;
Firm you grasp a walking stick, and wander with the wind.
Weathered though your face may be, your gaze is clear and kind;
You’ve seen days grow and fade on undulating oceans;
Lonesome pilgrim on the path, where does the journey end?
Lucid understanding gleams within your eyes, unstrained;
Reflections streaming through, the sights that met your vision;
Firm you grasp a walking stick, and wander with the wind.
Steeped in clarity profound, you neither seek nor find;
The moonlight’s phasing hues reveal the way you’ve chosen;
Lonesome pilgrim on the path, where does the journey end?
Firm you grasp a walking stick, and wander with the wind.
