Going North Poem by Greg Davidson

I wish to go
To a place I know.
It's a little bit south of somewhere north of here.
I spent some time there long ago,
Those summer days of youth,
In search of Love and Truth,
With spirit free and clear.

Time I spent
When north I went
Seated silent in the shade. My mind would roam.
Eyes half closed, content.
Answers were sought,
Though questions were naught,
So far from love and home.

The summers were warm
And it was the norm,
A little bit south of somewhere north of here,
For an evening storm,
Then the scent of the trees,
And an on-shore breeze,
With a night sky bright and clear.

But now it seems,
They are only dreams,
Of that place somewhere north of here.
Oft recurring themes,
Do from days to daze,
In a multitude of ways
Compound uncertainty and fear.

Now the clouds and rain,
Rusted joints and winter pain,
Focus thoughts on a dark and changing vision.
As for a passenger on a train.
The landscape passes by,
And no matter how I try,
There's only time for indecision.

I must take command,
Exactly where I stand
A distance south of that place north of here.
And with my aging hand.
Take the rudder of my days,
Tighten sheets, loosen stays
And point into the tide and steer.

2012