*What lies beyond the bend in the road?
Behind the green pine trees,
Capped with white snow?*
I cannot know what lies ahead
Until I reach the turn
I fear the journey long though
And my feet ache and burn.
This road feels somehow steeper
From when I walked it the last time
Oh, everything is worse alone
Without him by my side.
He was a fearless traveller
Whose words were always sweet.
He said "a traveller is what I am,
I've marched through cold and heat.
I've swam through snow,
I've run through rain,
But no amount of travelling
Can escape me from this pain.
I long to see my loving wife,
So gentle and so kind,
But I fear I've left her alone
Far too many times.
I could not return home now
Her love has long since left,
And to see her with another man
Would surely be my death".
As that bend drew ever nearer,
I knew soon we would part.
So I struggled one last aching time
To heal his lonely heart.
I said "Why do you travel forever?
Why not go home now?
Her love is strong as ever,
She forgives your wandering around."
"There is no other man for her,
There is only you.
I beg you now come home.
Start your life anew."
He said "I am a weary traveller,
I always long for home,
But I cannot be still.
Travelling is all I know."
And though weary he was
He kept walking with me.
But he stopped at the bend
At the edge of the trees,
He said "I've seen you before,
And I'll see you again.
Please do not miss me,
But don't forget me,
Old Friend".
That was many years ago,
And I miss him still.
That road is getting longer.
I am getting ill.
So I return to my empty house.
Through my hair I run a comb.
And I leave one light on - just in case -
My weary traveller comes home
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 11:13 PM UTC
*What lies beyond the bend in the road?
Behind the green pine trees,
Capped with white snow?*
I cannot know what lies ahead
Until I reach the turn
I fear the journey long though
And my feet ache and burn.
This road feels somehow steeper
From when I walked it the last time
Oh, everything is worse alone
Without him by my side.
He was a fearless traveller
Whose words were always sweet.
He said "a traveller is what I am,
I've marched through cold and heat.
I've swam through snow,
I've run through rain,
But no amount of travelling
Can escape me from this pain.
I long to see my loving wife,
So gentle and so kind,
But I fear I've left her alone
Far too many times.
I could not return home now
Her love has long since left,
And to see her with another man
Would surely be my death".
As that bend drew ever nearer,
I knew soon we would part.
So I struggled one last aching time
To heal his lonely heart.
I said "Why do you travel forever?
Why not go home now?
Her love is strong as ever,
She forgives your wandering around."
"There is no other man for her,
There is only you.
I beg you now come home.
Start your life anew."
He said "I am a weary traveller,
I always long for home,
But I cannot be still.
Travelling is all I know."
And though weary he was
He kept walking with me.
But he stopped at the bend
At the edge of the trees,
He said "I've seen you before,
And I'll see you again.
Please do not miss me,
But don't forget me,
Old Friend".
That was many years ago,
And I miss him still.
That road is getting longer.
I am getting ill.
So I return to my empty house.
Through my hair I run a comb.
And I leave one light on - just in case -
My weary traveller comes home
I wrote this one summer night in July a few years ago. Driving home late at night the road was winding far ahead of me and for a few moments at every turn I couldn't see where I was going. The trees were green then, but I envisioned a long journey through the harsh winter of a man returning to his wife. I could see them perfectly. Walking together, in love but torn apart by circumstance. I pictured their gaze as they met again when he returned, and her heart break as she parted with him at the bend in the road and he vanished behind a thick curtain of trees. Her empty house is what struck me most. I came to the end of this poem only to find myself fiercely disheartened by its strange reality. She is alone.