The Road I Took
With Apologies to Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a horrid wood
and sorry I was to be there at all.
Two roads, night fallen, there I stood,
(would it have been thus if I’d been good?)
under a thunder clouded pall.
I tossed my last ill-gotten cent.
I bent to see. Up came the head.
But lightning struck. An oak was rent.
It spread across the path I meant
to take. The chill all mortals dread
came then on me. Tails it would be.
I stepped upon that way so black.
I felt the earth go under me.
I screamed. And then I couldn’t see
yet neath my feet I felt the track,
the track that led me far—to rot,
to where eternal fires burn.
If only I’d had another shot
I thought. To plan, to change, to plot.
I knew, I knew I’d not return.
Ay, youth. The flames are not to fear.
I see strange visions in the fire.
There’s much to learn and practice here
on this completely different sphere.
There’s much to pacify desire.
I shall go back one day to see
that blessed oak’s decaying bark,
the old familiar—haunts—I’ll see,
the men I loathed and who loathed me
I’ll visit for a lark.
Published in (Not) One of Us
