David C Probst
David C Probst Poems
|5.||New Year's Eve||12/31/2011|
Step by step I climb the steep ascent,
Panting, sweating, longing for some rest.
Feet that hurt and eyes that scrutinize
Every inch of stone I tread across.
Pilgrims' traces grace the worn-out path:
Crumbling cairns rebuilt continuously,
Names and crosses carved in dateless beams -
Hopeful messages addressed to God.
Who am I to walk so carelessly,
Gracelessly along this sacred path?
Where's my faith, my awe, my humbleness?
What has made me so insensible?
Crucifixes are religious art,
Shells but lovely souvenirs to me.