Oh, How Far Forest Star, Oh, How Far

By: Rory Murphy

Amongst darkened oaks, between snapped birch branch,

Lies a weary path downtrodden, worn and dyed by failed stanch.

Alone I tread silent, while darkest night overcomes clouded day.

Others disregard me. Like trees my faith is cleared away.

Listen to the twigs and leaves crunch and snap.

Continuing onwards, I hunger and yearn for a quick nap.

Listen now, Silence, to night’s symphony of wind.

Accompaniment arrives; howls join as thicket thinned

To left lies rapids; sounds of rushing stream dance

To frightful rights, growls lie hushed to entrance.

Kneeling of soil—richly living to contrast dying eyes—

I gaze up succumbing and smile to my surprise.

Oh, how seemingly far, such a beautiful forest star;

Shining with promise, asking to guide where the lost are.

With vigour, treading north with limbs scratched I ache.

Yet boldly I move on, for my trust in its light won’t quake.

I may see it fade; I may question if it’s there or real,

But as my guiding light, I thank its forgiving appeal.