The Road to Osgiliath
I go alone to face the dark,
The sunlight broken on the deep.
From morning’s shore I now embark,
There is a promise I must keep.
Two oars sweep water, fore and aft;
Two pairs of hands the labor share.
The eastern shore receives my craft,
And four bare feet leave footprints there.
The hill is steep; I climb alone,
And black the edges of my sight.
The pathway is all overgrown,
And reaching shadow dims the light.
Brown hands push leaf and bough aside.
Wise eyes divine a gentler climb;
Those hands the tangled thorns divide,
And make the lighter load be mine.
My bed is walled by silent stone
That leans with hard, unwelcome stare
Like sentinels of jagged bone,
Unmoved by mortal grief and care.
My eyes see naught but shattered rocks,
My dreams are tears; the waking, too.
The fading green of mem’ry mocks
The withered lands I must pass through.
It’ll be all right, he says to me,
Again, again he says the same;
And reaches to keep my fingers free,
With nothing in his voice of blame.
Alone I tread a broken Road
Whose way through deep-pooled sorrow lies;
A mere of sacrifice o’erflowed
With Shadow-rain from olden skies.
And with me is the Shadow’s cold,
A song of gilded threadings spun
In drowning circles round my soul
As Shadow-wings bedim the sun.
Shadow, Shadow, ever near;
Shadow ever calling me
To yield before the Gates of Fear:
The doom I seek e’en as I flee.
It’ll be all right, he says to me,
Again, again he says the same;
And reaches to keep my fingers free,
With nothing in his voice of blame.
Alone, I feel the dark wings come
And beat upon my fading day
Until at last my will is numb,
Pale as this city, chill and grey.
About me all the world is grim;
If there is sound, I cannot hear.
The whirlpool draws my life-breath in,
And binds it to the fire there.
You’d touch that flame? You’d steal that heart?
You’d dare desire the burning gold?
You’d dare the slave and master part
And leave me dying in the cold?
Bewildered eyes stare up in pain,
Bewildered tears I now can see;
Would I set him to the cross again,
He having been there once for me?
A voice calls out soft words to me;
If they be his, I cannot tell.
But still the words touch mercifully
And bring my soul back home from hell.
