George Van Den Driessche


The Hill


It towered over my childhood
Catching all fancy
And molding all thought
Surrounded by woods
On all sides
And touched by fields on two
Two dark and murky swamps
Swallowed the base
And a neighboring forest
Of pines

Upon this hill
All things were possible
I was
King and Champion
King of thieves
King of men
King of dragons
I was conqueror and defeated
Conqueror of demons
Conqueror of goblins
Conqueror of magic
There was no limit
To the stories
This hill could tell

It was on this hill
My grandpa and I sat
Waiting for squirrels
And seeing only deer
It was on this hill
My grandpa and I sat
Waiting for deer
And seeing only squirrels
Through all seasons
Did we do so
Upon the hill

This hill is where
My brother and I
Would charge our steeds
Down its mountainous edge
Riders conquering Snowy Mountain
As the man from snowy river
It was here we all rode
Leading horse through
More challenging obstacle
Two sons riding
With father teaching

It was to this hill
I would retreat
To run from my parents
Screams
It was to this hill
I would retreat
To run from life’s
Horrors
And so it is today
I return to this place
Where I always found peace
I return to this hill
Often, if only as a dream
The place of my childhood
And innocent daydreams

Submitted: Monday, June 24, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, June 25, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Growing up, in the woods behind my house there was a hill that I used to hunt at, play on, and just escape to throughout my childhood. This poem is my attempt to recapture these days from my childhood.

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