Lonesome Road

POSTED IN contemporary poetry October 20, 2013

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lonesome Road

 
Mistily grown in darkness new-fallen
Whispers of silence are toiling in lees
Forgotten forever and never awoken;
Lost in the anger that silence decrees.
 
Patience, O laughter, questions recallen,
Wasted one chance to follow a way
To a goal never mine in a place to be broken,
Yet that wasting was painful; the shadows are grey.
 
It is in me to mention in passing this way
That anger’s a virtue, instilled in deep fire;
I am Druad; my work is to heal,
Be healing a weapon, or wielded in ire.
 
Cromloch is the centre; the tall stones are grey,
The cairns for the wind-lorn or candles of grief,
The forests forever to desert’s limn weal
Their domain succumbed to spring’s cool relief.
 
 
Each thereby entered, each portion true
To add to the whole, the balance there find
With oceans dislimn, with winds howling through;
Bring hope to the Forest; ‘tis work of the mind.
 
Blessing of music in order’s relief,
There lies the trust, ne’er trusted the thief
Who plays her sweet flute in works convolute
And enters each hymn an eulogy of grief.
 
Now is the watch-fire, filling the wintered air
With such promises bold as we see the high glade
Crossed with the oaks, boughs seven tiers there
And upon the high ground the lodge is well made.
 
Logs laid lengthwise, layered and long,
Boulders bared, broken, laid crosswise betwixt
The higher lean limbs, the high roof is strong,
And together the lodge is cunningly fixed.
 
Now is the knowing, the work we share
Now eternally good, twixt evil and good
The balance is true, and heal everywhere
The forest renewed, greenheart’s wood.
 
Yet life alone gave me no pleasure
As filth besmirched our dearest land
But now we arise and take bold measure
To bring this chaos well in hand.
 
 
‘Sombrely beautiful, and yet so light with thoughtful smile
If patient, then patiently waiting, impatient all the while
Open to honest candour, gifted foresight to succour,
Bereft of sin’s insincerity, filled with wisdom’s light.’
 
I’ve lived and died a million times
In duties far and near,
I’ve lost my loves a million times
Yet I crave to hold you dear.
 
 
For I’m the Fool who’s lived and died
In greater service to our Lord
Danced away from star to star
To bring just peace and sweet accord.
 
But now I’ve wearied of all the tryst
That seems the lot for me;
Dearest soul that here my soul hath kissed
Would you share my eternity?
 
For at last I find the work is done,
I’ve settled the every score,
And home again I go to God,
To rest for ever more.
 
The Pilgrim dressed in sombre black
Gave hope eternally,
But now must rest his staff with God,
In his own eternity.

 

Richard Jones