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The Land Of Beginning Again

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The Land Of Beginning Again

Louise Fletcher

I wish that there were some wonderful place

Called the Land of Beginning Again,

Where all our mistakes and all our heartaches

And all of our poor selfish grief

Could be dropped like a shabby old coat at the door,

And never be put on again.

I wish we could come on it all unaware,

Like the hunter who finds a lost trail;

And I wish that the one whom our blindness had done

The greatest injustice of all

Could be at the gates like an old friend that waits

For the comrade he’s gladdest to hail.

We would find all the things we intended to do

But forgot, and remembered too late,

Little praises unspoken, little promises broken,

And of all the thousand and one

Little duties neglected that might have perfected

The day for one less fortunate.

I wish that there were some wonderful place

Called the Land of Beginning Again,

Where all our mistakes and all our heartaches

And all of our poor selfish grief

Could be dropped like a shabby old coat at the door,

And never be put on again.

Written by Martyn Ballestero

February 23, 2010 at 6:43 am

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