The Hard Hill

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I was once a spectator,

not one to partake,

In the wisdom of the rising sun.

Its glorious rise from beneath towering heights of hills,

I find hard to climb.


My steps did falter amongst the thousands,

but none gave a helping hand,

I was lost in the wilderness,

Of rain, storm, unsheltered,

The hills, my hiding place.


I was once a tender wildflower in the desert,

I lost my way there one day,

Not a drop of water,

Did spring from the desert grounds,

Though the cactus kept something for me.


I looked everywhere for that cactus that grew bare,

they withstand the sun’s scorching rays,

No mirage came my way,

To comfort my feet that’s gone astray,

And lead me to the right way home.


The oasis did seem a little far away,

For my steps that are heavy and tired,

But the rising sun,

Gave me hope to carry on,

And give me the solace I sought.


I trudged the hard hill,

to release my hidden fears,

to keep me from death’s pathway.


I woke up one day,

And found that all who craved,

To see me at death’s door in Defeat.


One Comment on “The Hard Hill

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