John Delaney’s publications include Waypoints (2017), a collection of place poems, Twenty Questions (2019), a chapbook, Delicate Arch (2022), poems and photographs of national parks and monuments, and Galápagos (2023), a collaborative chapbook of his son Andrew’s photographs and John’s poems. Nile, a chapbook of poems and photographs about Egypt, appeared in May 2024. John Delaney lives in Port Townsend, WA.
Please visit John Delaney’s website: https://www.johnmdelaney.com/
Day 6: Riego de Ambros → Ponferrada (13 km)
The Shortest Crusade
Began the day with a good bell-ringing,
climbing the stairs of Santa María
Magdalena, the local parish church,
which may have prepared us for the rocky,
steep gorge we needed to navigate down
to Ponferrada. A Roman cistern,
still functioning, waylaid us before town.
But, oh, the castle King Ferdinand II
(of Léon!) constructed on our behalf—
to protect pilgrims on the Camino—
named after the Knights of the Templar,
who, wearing white mantles with red crosses,
became one of the most skilled juggernauts
in the Crusades. ‘Faith will cut your losses.’
Day 17: Amenal → Santiago de Compostela (16.3 km)
Reaching
A good sleeping night. We sent our backpacks
ahead, hoping on this last day to stroll.
At Monte Gozo, we got our first view
of the city, sprawling in the sun’s warmth.
But it took several hours to get down
and through the streets to the cathedral,
and so we missed the pilgrim’s mass at noon.
Alas, tomorrow could not come too soon!
The oficina del pelegrino
validated our credentials and signed
our compestela. Now we had proof!
We spent the night in a monastery
renovated for pilgrims. It made sense,
I think, to sleep in a stark cubicle
where so many monks before us obeyed
their solemn oaths, devoutly knelt and prayed.
Day 18: Santiago de Compostela
Touching
Breakfast at 7:30 gave us time
to explore the city’s squares, the pilgrim shop,
the museum. The cathedral was gloved
in scaffolding for its renovation.
Pilgrims were congregating everywhere.
We met several we knew, relieved but elated
to have pushed themselves through. And what I loved
was the peaceful ebullience that crowds
pulsated—another day without clouds.
In the afternoon, in the cathedral,
I joined a line in back of the altar
that ascended a staircase to St. James.
I touched his shoulder gently, like a friend’s,
thinking, ‘this is how my Camino ends.’
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Poetry & Images in this post: © John Delaney
Published with the permission of John Delaney