(Note: I am not a poet. I write books but not poetry books. So hang on!)
I was recently wondering through a valley. There were many truths I learned in that place. And I will do my best to remember those truths the next time I am there.
There are innumerable reasons to be in the valley. None of which are a choice. Yet someone once said that you don’t grow on the mountain top; you grow in the valley. I believe that is both true and partly untrue. The truth is that we, indeed, do most of our growing in adversity. And that is truly what the valley is: Adversity. Yet there may be a bit of growth on the mountain as well.
I just finished the first draft of my sixth book. It is called My King. It is written entirely in Old English prose. Something that was very hard to begin. But at this stage, I have to be careful that I don’t break out in a conversation with some cheap British accent and a bunch of thees and thous. It has also lent to writing a limited amount of poetry. Not necessarily good poetry, but rambling verse, nonetheless.
So to put forth unto you that which I have garnered concerning the valley low, here is a poem set in free verse (no rhyme, no meter). To gain the full impact, read it aloud in your best Scottish accent! Or Irish. Or Gaelic. Or French for that matter.
In This Valley
‘Twas a valley. One deep and vastly wide. In the midst there were a river. It flowed e’er night and day. It flowed aplenty.
From the mountains of the east I journeyed therein. The valley lay rooted and difficult. My fare was long and arduous.
The river lay ever near. ‘Twas always there as I required.
Once I thirsted greatly. To the river I went. It nourished me upon my hard path.
The valley lay ever before me. I looked to my breech, the mountain’s beauty I barely saw. Those to me fore still long and greatly off.
So ‘twas then I saw the flowers. I saw the trees. I saw the lovely. For about me lay all the wonder of His hand. There in the valley deep, wide, and immense. There, as I were struggling and bathed of tears, a wonder I had not seen.
I found a joy in the marvel of that which I had ignored in my tearful journey. Such I found myself here in this valley, happy and in His company.
I had the river. I had the beauty. I had the Presence.
Then I found I was upon the mountain as I had never left.
In this journey, in this hard place, in this low land, I found a truth that is upon all those who traverse the basin land.
‘Tis that a valley e’er has a start and, to be such a thing, must have an end.
‘Tisn’t a valley if it does not.
Have a beautiful day!
This is an updated edition of a post originally published on authormrdavenport.wixsite.com
Featured Image by Aniket Deole