Over the Divide the poem

OVER the DIVIDE the poem

The Beginning


With care I tread,
stepping along the divide,
watchful to neither slip
nor fall.
For though it matters little
whether I tumble,
or choose my way down,
I know that change will come.

To the South
lie cities, towns,
roads, and people,
and beasts grazing
in fields of waving grass,
that stretch to the horizon:
the world
from which I came.

And to the North:
a steep expanse of ice,
glittering whitely,
gives way
to a vast panorama
of spruce and pine.
Empty, and unknown,
it calls to me.

Take my hand,
please,
and come with me,
for I am afraid.
Take my hand,
and come with me,
north
of the divide.


Lakeside9 06 august, 2019