Terry D. Sutherland

THE PATH

Solemnly trod my secret path
I’ve hidden through the years
No one has cleaned its sides
It’s strewn with debris and tears
Where are the sweepers toiling?
Leaving lifelong fears
Scattered along life’s empty path
Punishing those so dear
Why have I done
Knowing what I must do
Just to walk that empty path
Chained by deed to my epitaph
I write to pay my dues
The choices that I make
Are mine and mine alone
I only hope to someday atone
Before my soul takes flight
Before I turn to dust from bone
And walk the endless night