Is this all
Is this all?
Life is a country, spread before us at birth, its
Vistas stretching beyond the horizon, full of
Mystery and anticipation.
In the distance lie mountain ranges,
Tall peaks of passion; this one the mother
Of one’s children, that one the pinnacle
Of a career, there the first marathon,
Beyond wearing the green and gold.
And between are valleys, and deep gorges of
Despair, counterpoint, giving meaning to each
Peak, for what is altitude but the opposite of
All is not a rollercoaster of existence: plains
Stretch in fertile sameness, each year growth
And rich harvest; ears of wheat are as one’s
Children that ripen and take on new life.
In time, the country is explored, the borders
Reached and new vistas beyond glimpsed.
And one looks back at distant ranges and
Sweeping plains, and wonders “Is this all?”.
Out of the shimmering heat she appears,
Riding on a bay brown horse. Almond eyes,
Arabesque lips, and high cheekbones;
Telling their story, generation on generation.
And life takes on new meaning, resonances
With the past command me, compel me in
Response: in adolescence there was a she,
Who chased me, but then I was not caught.
“Love sought is good, Love given unsought
Is better” so the saying goes; and she chased
Me, until I caught her, and she became my all.
Life is a country, spread before us.
Copyright © Edward Clapham | Year Posted 2019