The Last Mile

CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith from a place of winter For the Years of Winter…

THE LAST MILE

Although I occasionally write poems, I am not a poet. That title is reserved for people who know what they’re doing, like Elaine Palencia or Billy Collins. Nor am I a song writer, although I occasionally write a song. That title should be reserved for folks like Jim Manley or Tom Paxton.

Poems and songs are not the same thing. Occasionally a poem can be set directly to music, as John Baptiste Caulkin did with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” Most of the time, though, lyrics and poems are different animals. One is written to be read, one to be sung. The flow of a poem doesn’t automatically fit the flow of music.

So, which is “I’ll Walk the Last Mile with You?” I think of it as a song, because I have a tune in my head to which I sing it. If you don’t have a tune you can use to hum it, you’re welcome to read it as a poem.

I used the phrase “ride the last mile with you” in a letter. Helen saw it and said, “You should do something with that.” So I did.

I’LL WALK THE LAST MILE WITH YOU

On the bright white floral morning
When we could see forever
And the path was paved with blossoms for our feet
We clasped our hands together
And this is what I whispered
I’ll walk the last mile with you

I’ll walk the last mile with you
Wherever this road takes us
In sunshine or in rain
In gladness or in pain
I’ll walk the last mile with you

On those chill still rainy mid-days
When storm clouds gathered o’er us
And the way was only mud beneath our feet
We linked our arms together
And this is what I stammered
I’ll walk the last mile with you

I’ll walk the last mile with you
Wherever this road takes us
In sunshine or in rain
In gladness or in pain
I’ll walk the last mile with you

On this low slow lingering evening
When the light is growing dimmer
And the road is long behind our weary feet
We shall press our lips together
And with our fading breath say
I’ll walk the last mile with you.

I’ll walk the last mile with you
Wherever this road takes us
In sunshine or in rain
In gladness or in pain
I’ll walk the last mile with you

JRMcF

The “place of winter” mentioned in the title line is Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where life is defined by winter even in the summer!

You are always welcome to Forward or Repost or Reprint. It’s okay to acknowledge the source, unless it embarrasses you too much. It is okay to refer the link to older folks you know or to print it in a church newsletter or bulletin.

{I also write the fictional “Periwinkle Chronicles” blog. One needs a rather strange sense of humor to enjoy it, but occasionally it is slightly funny. It is at http://periwinklechronicles.blogspot.com/}

(If you would prefer to receive either “Christ In Winter” or “Periwinkle Chronicles” via email, just let me know at jmcfarland1721@charter.net, and I’ll put you on the email list.)