Up There Somewhere

Every one gets a different ladder.
Mine was missing a few rungs (still is)
requiring a few leaps.

I was not made for leaps.
I am oldish, stiff, a bit broken.
and yet at the same time, discontented

at where I am. Wherever I am.
And so. A leap here and there.
Most of the time I make it,

but at times? Well at times
I find the rungs are greased and slick,
as if someone does not want me

to grasp the next rung. It would be easier
to stay where I am, or even to slide
down to solid ground. Safe and firm.

If not exactly exciting. And so, I climb
the ladder I have been given,
never sure where it leads.

That is a certain kind of madness,
climbing into the clouds
risking life and limb and heart and soul,

just because you are restless and sure
that no matter how good this place is,
there is something better

Up there
somewhere.

About this poem.

A verse about my faith journey, or all our faith journeys. Or about our lives in general. Or my restless nature. Or about love (climbing the ladder) vs falling in love (Taking the leaps). Poetry is never about one thing. Even when I try to make it so.

The photograph was taken at the Russian Icon Museum in Clinton, Mass. A small, glorious museum with over a thousand icons. I come back inspired every time I go there. It is titled the Ladder of Divine Ascent, a page of a Codex. We have no idea who the actual artist is.

Be well. Travel wisely. The journey is worth it.

Tom