These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

The Journey up the Hill

For many days along the winding path
the youth began to ponder longish steps.
The reedy bagpipes made him stop to laugh,
while hyacinths along his mustache crept.

Through craggy steeps and blackest vales he trudged
with radiant heart oft marked by foes' true shots.
The shredded sheet of hope some days begrudged
his spirit food, and left him tied in knots.

His memories meandered from the crevices of mind.
The tiny tot embraced his bowl of ice cream with his face.
Vanilla filled with choc'late chips, intensest joy so blind.
Embraced by fluffy, heavy quilts the pain of life erased.

The ancient man, a shudd'ring mass of raw, unyielding pain
faced ebony foe with blood-caked claws in shaking courage stood.
His final, raspy breaths of venting life he hoped to gain
Blest entrance through the Golden Gate by Vic'try o'er the Wood.

As Death embraced the soaked and weary, frightened, sobbing soul
Most Brilliant Light broke through the acrid coal in steely Joy.
"My Victory o'er cross and grave for making lost ones, whole,
is your great Gift. So, rest in me, salvation to employ."

The unknown path through cloud-crowned peak to fairest land beyond
still brings the stalwart, faithful heart some icy steps to tread,
but when the fleeting breath of life is on the wind and gone
believing souls in Strong Hands' Grace will live, no more be dead.

by Jay O'Toole
on May 15th, 2019