Lenten Poem



Think not how far we have to go,

how far weíve come; it saps the strength,

melts the will. Itís better not to know

the breadth and height and length

of all thatís still ahead.

Who wants to learn oneís end?

What will be, what would have been - weigh like lead.

Past offenses change not, cannot mend.

Better to proceed by little steps

within your range; no sweat, regret, no strain;

blanking out dramatic heights and depths

the thought of chasms, rough terrain.

Time then to see Godís downward bending

to share the journey and the ending.


Poems from the Eighth Decade
Copyright © Harold Macdonald 2004
used with permission

Harold Macdonald Poetry

Ash Wednesday
Ashes to Easter