Patriarch's villanelle

Life is full of arrows and slings.

I learned to walk wounded, wet eyes towards the sun.

He said: only cry at beautiful things.

*

He is one subject to five children kings.

From his waning eye’s view, they’ve just begun –

if he could just shield them from life’s arrows and slings.

*

For my sixteenth birthday, I asked him to bring

me to music. He picked Mozart. When it was done,

I asked: why do you cry at this beautiful thing?

*

I said: tears for woodwinds and strings?

He nodded, ignoring my shun.

He said: life is full of arrows and slings,

*

but tears are blessings,

sacred as your poet’s tongue.

He said: sanctify the beautiful things.

*

When he wanes into black-sky starlight, I will sing

Mozart arias. As for tears, I promise him none.

Life is full of arrows and slings,

but I only cry at beautiful things.