Laughing Men With Frowning Faces

I see the valley behind me two days back.

Crags and cliffs afore me; the summit now in sight.

Laughing men with frowning faces said to me it can’t be done.

With gangly arms which flailed about, they tried to stall me with their muted shouts.

One foot affront another; slipping stones roll back darkness way.

Breathing becomes difficult as I make it on in the silence of the day.

Trees thin the higher I go; scrags of dry brush jut now from beneath the snow.

Higher and higher I go, the laughing men now a distant memory far below.

The sun grows brighter each step I take; another day’s darkness left now it its wake.

Onward I go against the mountains steep rise; leaving now only shadows beneath.

One foot at a time I climb on torn and bloody feet.

Crimson is the snow each step I take; but alas now the summit I greet.

Skies so blue, I can almost see forever.

I can see tomorrow; I can see what in store for me.

For on the other side of the summit lies another valley

and I can see the laughing men with frowning faces…waiting…waiting for me to greet.

J. Allen Wilson © 4/2008