In Memory of Wilfred Thesiger
"Bright colors, savagery, barbaric splendor,
the throb of drums" -- he wrote he craved for these
exotic winds; he was a stern defender
of hardship and adventure -- he'd appease
his wanderlust through barren lands with camels
from Umm al Samim to naked Rub al Khali.
But age embraced the comforts that were trammels
-- he'd settled down in Kenya's poor Rift Valley,
AIDS took his friends, he missed their sun-touched faces,
and suddenly it all began to gall.
He closed the chapter, deserted his oasis,
a London suburb his last port of call.
He peered toward his final trek unfazed
-- the light went from his eyes, but dimly blazed.
Source: Outside Magazine, October 1998