Snufkin's Departure

“Farewell to the old
and hello to the new”
Snufkin said to himself,
as he turned his wan face
from familiar valley
and friendship and comfort
from all that was safe and secure;
from the family who’d held him
close in their heart
from the hearth-fires of home
and the table well-laid
and the one heart which loved,
and even now ached,
with the loss of his friend.


The pass South now beckoned
its call was so strong
insistent and ardent
unyielding as stone.
The desire to explore:
to find what was real
(not safe and secure) urged him on:
intent on disclosing
the truth in his heart,
forgetful of bond,
of duty and need
and the one heart which loved,
and even now ached,
with the loss of his friend.

Each Spring was the same,
yet this time felt different
as if he might find
what he yearned for at last
and never return:
to the faces he knew
choosing freedom and danger and distance
the austere pilgrim’s path
so clearly set out
away turning from faith
and affection and home
and the one heart which loved,
and even now ached,
with the loss of his friend.


As he trudged on, alone,
the whole world before him
fear and elation
welled up in his soul:
The glorious challenge
of self-righteous living
awakened the rush of expecting,
fell things and foul
to be overcome;
but none so hard to escape
as the memory
of the one heart which loved,
and even now ached,
with the loss of his friend.

Still, he shrugged and pressed on,
through snow snuggled forests,
past hard granite rocks
from cliffs long-time fallen
now resting half-buried
in leaf mould and earth.
His mind was sure, now resolved:
he’d make his own way
and gladly accept
what the Fates had in store
– be it ever so dire –
though his own heart still loved,
and even now ached,
with the loss of his friend.