25 March 2011
I paused on my trail up the mountain vale
and looked back at the valley below
all the days I’d seen when eyes were keen
and the things I’d come to know.
I saw glints atop the places I’d stopped
where a life I'd tried to build
of hardships borne and hopes betorn
and promises unfulfilled.
Back then the end seemed far round the bend
I’d no thought for what I might find
whence came the days when I surely faced
fewer steps ahead than behind.
I saw rocks a’hewn and rubble strewn
where I’d struggled and where I fell
their imprints there and everywhere
each with its own tale to tell.
I saw a few sweet springs of dew
and joys I’d thought would last.
Never once did I fear those things so dear
could become part of ages past.
The mountain crest seemed at its best
foggy and unclear.
Too late I turned to lessons learned
until ‘twas too late for fear.
Now I can see with eyes that be
growing dim at an e'er quicker pace
that the paths I tried in foolish pride
left scars naught can erase.
The mountain looms with unknown dooms
though I know not what may befall.
Will I die so weak on that summit peak
still looming so grand and tall?
Or will I fall short, with no resort
by chance or pain or choice?
Will evil’s lure reach premature
to silence my wondering voice?
I’m rested now more, though my burden sore
lie heavier than I could have dreamed
when the mountain tall seemed almost all
ahead of me unseen.
But shouldering my pack, with one last look back
I set out on the trail once more
for no power of man can change the plan
that drives me on as before.
I cannot go back, though there’s no lack
of good intentions and regrets.
Nor can I lie and wait here to die
and loose life’s cruel fetts.
No, my only choice is to make my voice
more determined than before
to say what I must, to do what is just
and continue my climbing chore.
I can only host the trailing ghosts
that trod my long worn road
and make small amends, and where I can, make friends
to lighten each other’s load.