The Road through the Gate Past Grace
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The roadway leads from nowhere on and on
To nowhere. Sunset and horizon loom,
Yet nothing is beyond. The road to dawn
Roves, meaningless. Our emptiness spells doom.
We pass a gate. A willow slides. I press
The yellow greenness with my head away.
As soon as I have passed, the weeping dress
Falls back. The gentle, meaningless, has sway.
The gate and tree remain while we go past.
The road, and sun, and dawn, and night remain
And leave, and come, and go. The start is last.
The end is everywhere. The dawn is stain.
..What good the swinging branches or the head?
….What good the dawn where gates go towards the dead?
~ Phillip Whidden
