Ode to a Pilgrim
This non-rhyming poem is based on my short memoir, ‘The Evening Watch’. It is largely written in iambic pentameter. However, I have tried to vary the metre significantly in several places to allow for a change of rhythm and musicality.
As I beheld the fading light of day,
The trade winds gathered from the south and east,
White-crested waves broke hard against the hull,
To cast cascades of spray upon the breeze.
A scattered flight of calling migrant birds
Bore witness to our steady progress south,
And called me from my watchful solitude,
Beneath the blushing pinks and gold of dusk.
The unruly breeze brought sooty terns to feed
And seek their prey among the dancing waves,
Then soon, the albatross came soaring by,
In silhouette against the twilight sky.
As heaven’s amber hues gave way to night,
In gusting wind, that pilgrim stayed beside
The ship, to fly within my widest reach,
And hold me fast with watchful gimlet eyes.
With skill and stately grace, our pilgrim
Discerned her path across the boundless ocean,
While I employed mean time and precious sextant,
To grope my way amidst the sun and stars.
My feeble feats of ordinary pilotage,
Were naught to such profound and subtle sense.
For she would spend her life of fifty years,
And thriving, keep her course at sea, alone.
Upon each passing day of our happy voyage south,
The pilgrim returned to fly beside the ship, close by.
There I stood with arms outstretched and flew,
A hand’s breadth from her, in joyful company.
I felt enthralled and mused in grateful wonder,
For I had won the roaming pilgrim's trust,
Although grew fearful of her implicit faith,
As faith in man would surely cause her death.
For man brings cruel death in many forms,
Foul chemicals, plastic, oil or fisherman's hook;
Or changing clime might prevent her nesting.
Her proximity to man risks her extinction.
I wanted to say farewell to the pilgrim,
For she'd not follow our westward path,
Her road was homeward, south of forty degrees,
For the albatross still thrives in abundance there.
At home, amid the howling, roaring forties,
Among that blasting belt of icy winds,
Might pilgrims live safe amid gigantic seas,
And by God's grace, avoid man's cruel neglect.
And when the moment of her leaving came,
With barely a movement of her great wings,
She rose above the ship upon the breeze,
And with all my heart, I wished her safely home.
As I beheld the fading light of day,
The trade winds gathered from the south and east,
White-crested waves broke hard against the hull,
To cast cascades of spray upon the breeze.
A scattered flight of calling migrant birds
Bore witness to our steady progress south,
And called me from my watchful solitude,
Beneath the blushing pinks and gold of dusk.
The unruly breeze brought sooty terns to feed
And seek their prey among the dancing waves,
Then soon, the albatross came soaring by,
In silhouette against the twilight sky.
As heaven’s amber hues gave way to night,
In gusting wind, that pilgrim stayed beside
The ship, to fly within my widest reach,
And hold me fast with watchful gimlet eyes.
With skill and stately grace, our pilgrim
Discerned her path across the boundless ocean,
While I employed mean time and precious sextant,
To grope my way amidst the sun and stars.
My feeble feats of ordinary pilotage,
Were naught to such profound and subtle sense.
For she would spend her life of fifty years,
And thriving, keep her course at sea, alone.
Upon each passing day of our happy voyage south,
The pilgrim returned to fly beside the ship, close by.
There I stood with arms outstretched and flew,
A hand’s breadth from her, in joyful company.
I felt enthralled and mused in grateful wonder,
For I had won the roaming pilgrim's trust,
Although grew fearful of her implicit faith,
As faith in man would surely cause her death.
For man brings cruel death in many forms,
Foul chemicals, plastic, oil or fisherman's hook;
Or changing clime might prevent her nesting.
Her proximity to man risks her extinction.
I wanted to say farewell to the pilgrim,
For she'd not follow our westward path,
Her road was homeward, south of forty degrees,
For the albatross still thrives in abundance there.
At home, amid the howling, roaring forties,
Among that blasting belt of icy winds,
Might pilgrims live safe amid gigantic seas,
And by God's grace, avoid man's cruel neglect.
And when the moment of her leaving came,
With barely a movement of her great wings,
She rose above the ship upon the breeze,
And with all my heart, I wished her safely home.
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| Photo: Fer Nando at Unsplash |
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