The Walker
The way he’s come seems now so long and winding
Tramping through the rugged hills of time
His footfalls, once so full of purpose, begin to falter
As if the destination is now further off
And the path no longer for the finding.
His will to walk is undiminished
(Please God let that be true)
The will to strive, to climb, to go the umpteenth second mile
The will to gather other pilgrims too.
But this dark place is littered with conflicting signposts
With other walkers passing by too sure
“This is the path and this the way to walk”
“This is the marching song to sing and this the way to talk”
As striding by on different paths they leave his questioning unfinished.
The questions dance inside his head, whilst answers walk with leaden feet
That stumble slowly to the place where ask and answer meet.
Then meeting, change to swifter,
Spin-blurred dancing feet
That turn and mock his efforts to be sure
And shriek instead to trust
And thus to know far more.
Yet in it all he knows
Beyond the fog
The sun still shines
The Son still reigns
As
Head down
Stumbling
Sometimes falling
Wondering
Step-by-step
By step
He makes his way to higher ground.
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