Saturday, November 24, 2018
POEM: THE RESCUE
By Donovan Baldwin
The woman stood in the dying light
Her heart wildly beating inside,
Faint hope failing with the coming of night,
As the bitter wind moaned and sighed.
In tune with the wind, she sighed and moaned,
Tears cold as ice on her face.
The trees bent down, and the mountain groaned,
While she stared at that terrible place.
On the edge of a cliff, so far up above,
Lay a body which seemed but a rag,
Far below, a climber, sent to her love,
Creeping upward as time seemed to drag.
This side of the mountain killed more than a few
Perhaps her lover the latest.
Yet the climber below, moving steady and true,
Was known by his peers as the greatest.
Then froze the hope in her fainting heart.
She whispered a prayer to the wind.
A silent plea to the climber at rest,
'Til he rose, and moved upward again.
At last there he stood and bent over the man,
She longed to stand there at his side.
He raised the still figure, began the climb down,
And the icy wind howled and cried.
Inch by inch downward, over the face
Moved the best, who climbed now for two.
The wind whipped her words out into space,
"If he's dead, my life is done too."
Only one in the world could have made the climb,
Returning over that cold, lonely stone.
He fled as if he had committed a crime,
When her lover was safely at home.
He loves to climb mountains which soar to the sky,
He climbs, knowing someday he'll fall.
Like the lover who fell before his dear lady's eyes,
Saved by one who loved most of all.
Somewhere on a mountain the wind sighs and moans,
As it did when he saved her love.
In fitful sleep he whispers and groans,
"If he had been the best below, and I the dear one above."
The woman stood in the dying light
Her heart wildly beating inside,
Faint hope failing with the coming of night,
As the bitter wind moaned and sighed.
In tune with the wind, she sighed and moaned,
Tears cold as ice on her face.
The trees bent down, and the mountain groaned,
While she stared at that terrible place.
On the edge of a cliff, so far up above,
Lay a body which seemed but a rag,
Far below, a climber, sent to her love,
Creeping upward as time seemed to drag.
This side of the mountain killed more than a few
Perhaps her lover the latest.
Yet the climber below, moving steady and true,
Was known by his peers as the greatest.
Then froze the hope in her fainting heart.
She whispered a prayer to the wind.
A silent plea to the climber at rest,
'Til he rose, and moved upward again.
At last there he stood and bent over the man,
She longed to stand there at his side.
He raised the still figure, began the climb down,
And the icy wind howled and cried.
Inch by inch downward, over the face
Moved the best, who climbed now for two.
The wind whipped her words out into space,
"If he's dead, my life is done too."
Only one in the world could have made the climb,
Returning over that cold, lonely stone.
He fled as if he had committed a crime,
When her lover was safely at home.
He loves to climb mountains which soar to the sky,
He climbs, knowing someday he'll fall.
Like the lover who fell before his dear lady's eyes,
Saved by one who loved most of all.
Somewhere on a mountain the wind sighs and moans,
As it did when he saved her love.
In fitful sleep he whispers and groans,
"If he had been the best below, and I the dear one above."
Labels: donovan baldwin, mountain climbing, poem, poetry, rescue
