The Pilgrim Road 16 & 17 & 18 Poem by David McLansky

The Pilgrim Road 16 & 17 & 18



The Miracle (16)

The Pilgrim Chief moved through the crowd
His head held high, his eye was proud, 

And as he moved, he spoke these words, 

His voice made strong so he was heard; 

'Look at the Satan in your hearts, 

Cast him out, make him depart; 

Your sins are truly magnified

By your wrath and foolish pride; 

You cast about to point at sins, 

I say the evil lies within;
You cruelty and brutish style

Reflects your acts against this child.'

At that he stooped and untied her wrists, 

The churl moved forward to resist, 

The Pilgrim Chief upturned his head, 

The churl stepped back in fear to tread; 

He gathered her unto his arms, 

She grabbed his neck now safe from harm, 

A frail old woman at the back

Now pressed forward through the pack; 

The girl leaped to her mother's arms, 

'Go back, go back into your farms, '
The Pilgrim said and raised his arms,
'And pray to Jesus on this day, 

For you've have one less sin to pay.'


Every Day Life (17)

They stood around the grey stone tubs

The younger Nuns assigned to scrub

The soiled clothes of the Order

Washing with the hard grey water;
The sun rose brightly in the sky, 

Burning hotly with its eye, 

They pounded, twisted, and as they wrung

They laughed and whispered, hymns were sung; 

In the kitchen they baked the bread

And marveled at what the Pilgrim said, 

'He is so young to be so wise; '

'Use more yeast, ' a Nun advised; 

The Nuns bent weeding in the fields

Some carried baskets, too old to kneel; 

Some milked the cows within their stalls, 

Some replaced the stones that fell from walls.

Some swept the dirt from the cells, 

Some carried water from the wells, 

The Priest rehearsed his sermon text, 

The Prioress walked round to inspect; 

When came the hour to stop and pray

All agreed that on that day, 

Something wondrous had occurred, 

Only the Prioress had demurred.


Reflections in the Heat of the Day (18)

In the sunny mid-day afternoon, 

The heat so strong it made you swoon, 

It came in waves across the hills, 

The yards stood empty, the cattle still; 

It rippled across the valley low, 

The air did shimmer in the glow; 

The trees stood limp in pastures green

The colors pale in a fuzzy sheen; 

The pilgrims sat beneath an elm

Silent in their heated realm

Content they had their bellies fed, 

Glad of him, their man who led; 

The Priest looked out his window pane

And searched the sky for signs of rain; 

But not a cloud did trace the sky, 

No bird took wing to swoop or fly; 

The Prioress stood looking grim

Behind the Priest, her back to him, 

'Who is this man, this vagabond, 

What right had he to release her bonds, 

To usurp your place, your authority? 

What right had he to set her free? 

She was brought to you for you to judge, 

But you stood there, you didn't budge, 

You allowed this man to false proclaim

T'was he who spoke in Jesus' name; 

You must act, you must be strong, 




To undo this error, to refute this wrong; 

The girl set free must be tried, 

To find the truth, to see who lied.

Without order and authority

Our lives are ruled by anarchy, 

Every upstart becomes a Prince, 

There are no laws, just shrill license.'

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