Walking Poem by Berna Lovrek

"At the end of all wrong roads I came
To the gates of the garden without a name. [...]", Siegfried Sassoon, in: "Vigils", London 1935


At the end of the wrong road
there is a garden...
... but - its gates are closed to me.

At the end of my road home
there is a pretty little house
with windows blazing with light...
... but - I have to stay outside.

At the end of the wrong road
there is laughter
and the mingling of congenial minds...
... but - I am not invited.

At the end of my road home
there is music and a warm welcome...
... but - neither is offered to me.

At the end of my life
there is a wrong road...
... I mourn and start
walking along the only road
that ever was open to me...