Across A Conceited Valley

By Stephen in Poetry, Writing

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Across A Conceited Valley

Across a conceited valley
Cowering below a brooding sky
Aspirations of ultimate futility
leave the lethargic occupied, fleetingly fulfilled
Shards of contempt—severing, slicing, scourging—
adorn the horizon
Looking, watching, searching for a sign—
their cue to clutch and squeeze and tear
life from the lifeless, render
death to the smouldering reed, deploy
fear to the smoking flax, and doubt
to the wearisome traveller

I look across the valley [and]
I see fear: impish and hardened hearts;
spineless in the face of the gathering gloom
Once these were my warrior band, my sword-brothers
Now hearts face vice-gripped
ultimatums and impassable dilemmas;
abandonment is written in their eyes
They are looking to you and
the cry of their mouths is heart-wrenching bitterness,
their words spin like razors to heaven
on wings of disappointment

But you would say,
“Oh! Do not grow weary, young youth;
do not tire of doing well
Doubt comes, doubt goes; Yes! Even to the disbelieving
Spread your arms, pray your soul be
emboldened to the cliff; take the fall
Past the fearful, the cynical, the tired
A gorge of grace;
an opening of hope, for yes, there is always
hope
I ask but two things: Snatch up your blade; chase the light of life”

A salt-white sky,
akin to conquest and victory
Delighting in life itself, a pleasure to the senses
The leap: the hardest plunge to take,
the longest way down
Yet now I walk with you, together with you
always with you; agony switches places with awe
tired-eyes with renewed vigour
The stars, they cry your name
The waters sing your song
The rocks proclaim your wonder
The fields testify of your truth
The streams mirror your laughter

The others? I weep for their indifference
Their fear, misplaced for passivity,
tearing them away from the cliff-face
My soul aches in desperation:
why will you not show yourself to them?

But You would say,
“My evidence precedes me; my handiwork
is clear to the searching heart
They have all been given the same
choice; and that, my beloved,
is not your choice to make.”

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