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.



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