At the Gates

You can remember a time
when it came easily,
when your vision was clear
and you did not have to struggle

through each day, when
the sun was golden and warmth
simply was. a time
before the dark pall

began to rob the garden of color
and the smell of honeysuckle
filled the air like magic.
You can remember,

like a vague dream,
less real now than fairies
and fairy tales, and yet
you cling to the memory,

fight for it, like a knight
standing at the castle gate
in the midst of battle,
bloody and immeasurably tired,

so close to the golden city,
separated by walls and gates,
and an enemy of your own creation
who flings arrows, stones and deadly

insults that fall around you,
and you suddenly realize
that if you believe in your destiny,
you are more than strong,

you are impervious.
About this poem

This poem started out to be about depression, but something in my spirit, just as it often does in life, refused to admit defeat. And so it became about victory.

Why? Because silly me, I believe victory is always possible, even when everything points to, and feels like, defeat. That, I tell myself, is part of God’s spirit in us.

Tom