Desolate Road
It’s a long and desolate road.
I think it’s always been so.
Such a desolate road to travel
before I see the brightness ahead,
the light after desolation
reflected in the water of the lake,
And the wire fence is no barrier
to this vision of my future brightness.
And the gate looks open
ready to welcome me through.
Sometimes a gate has seemed closed,
only to open with a degree of pressure
to allow me through.
Sometimes it has stayed closed
set firmly against me.
But this one is seems open,
or partly open,
no barrier
to my passing.
But as I draw closer
I can see the chain
and the padlock.
Open so far,
but no further.
I can go so far,
but no further
along the desolate road.
So far, but no further
towards the light
unless I climb.

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries...


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