The End of the Road
The End of the Road

He walks along the possible road,
one deliberate step ahead of the next.
At the end of the road, it may be,
there’ll be sustenance, shelter,
a sensation of sympathetic hands.

How long will it be, a lifetime?
With each deliberate step
his life lengthens.
What, he asks himself, will there be
at the end of the road?

At the end of the road, God knows,
there’ll be sustenance, shelter.
At the end of the road, the road
will begin again.

– –

“The End of the Road” is from Concerned Attentions, which was published in 2013.  It is one of a number of poems I have written about reincarnation.

Knute Skinner

KNUTE SKINNER lives in Killaspuglonane, County Clare, his home for the past fifty-five years. His poetry has appeared widely in Ireland, Britain, Australia and North America. He is the author of sixteen books of verse including a collected edition, Fifty Years: Poems 1957-2007, which appeared from Salmon. A memoir, Help Me to a Getaway, was published by Salmon in 2010.

Ouevre

The Cow

Poetry by Knute Skinner

There’s a white cow standing upon the hill, surely the whitest cow I shall ever see. As usual with cows she is eating grass. Nothing strange about that, except that...
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The Window Seat

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I found Edna stretched out there, absorbing the sun. “You look just like a cat,” I announced and put down my armload of books. “Do you also purr?” “I purr...
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What Trudy Knows

Poetry by Knute Skinner

I find myself mourning but not for anyone we have buried and not for the old neighbourhood or my lost youth or any of that crap. To make no bones...
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Anthology

Still children seeking their way home

Poetry by Bettina

We are grown people we claim. To prove it our lips form a tight line, our faces show wrinkles which remind us of years of living, striving, surviving, crying after...
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Voice

Poetry by Arwa Qutbuddin

Surreal this magical mess of being a woman riding high on passion and pain Swimming inside my liquid eyes this dream of a world Where softness is the new sacred...
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I’ve tried to run

Poetry by Bettina

I’ve tried to run from suburb to city, to mountains and sea, from father and mother to husband, son and daughter. I hold memories of passing moments like clouds, dissolving,...
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