Poverty of the Pilgrim

The ocean lifts its skirts
to follow the moon
and across the inland sea
a great wave of water empties.


Running like a river
toward the opening void
the bays and coves
throw themselves into the chase,
the vast expanse giving up its wealth
for the poverty of the pilgrim.


I toss my importance into the tide,
the swirls of the ebb gathering the weight
like a thin branch on the water
lifted by the passion of the sea.


The little I have passes
in early light without goodbye,
leaving me exposed
like the weed covered rocks,
weightless and dry,
open to the mystery.




6 Responses to “Poverty of the Pilgrim”

  1. Tom Figel says:

    Apparently, Don, you don’t think of South Bend when you describe these landscapes. Thanks for sending this and all other poems.

  2. Veronica Lim says:

    This is a beautiful poem, Don. I love the imagery, and the clean openness to mystery which lingers with one.

  3. James says:

    Love the sense of complete abandon.
    Come…let it go quickly !

  4. David Barnes says:

    right on!

  5. David Banner says:

    We are all exposed to the mystery, whether we know it or not…

  6. James says:

    This poem had me singing the lyrics from a G.L. song

    Drink your glasses girls and boys
    It’s time to hit the sky
    To the tune of thunder
    There’s no time to wonder why

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