The Wood of Forgotten Deeds
I'd been depressed for a year or so
For the way ahead was grim,
Each venture failed left a legacy
That had said, ‘You can't come in!
No smell of sweet success for you
But the canker of despair,
Don't hope for wealth or accolades
In your life, they're just not there.'
My wife took off with a businessman
That I once had called a friend,
I hadn't known what was going on
‘Til she left me, in the end,
The lure of money and trinkets turned
Her face from a dismal past,
And her one delight was to scorn me then
When her love failed, at the last.
I often thought that I'd end it then
When my world was black as pitch,
When the future promised more of the same
In some unforgiving ditch,
I wondered why it had chosen me
This fate, with its barren seeds,
But came at last to the truth, I found
The Wood of Forgotten Deeds.
I'd travelled far from the paths of men
To nurse my hurts on my own,
Squatted in many a ruined house
And wandered at night, alone,
I came at length to a valley where
No man had laid his hand,
And a wood had covered the valley floor
Since the dawn of time began.
Rain had driven me into the wood
To shelter among the trees,
And a mood of some despair had grown
As it forced me to my knees,
My mind lit up with a thousand things
That littered my wayward past,
And every tree cried out to me:
‘Each sin is nailed to your mast! '
The things that I was ashamed of
I had pushed them away from me,
Hidden them in my subconscious so
They wouldn't keep bothering me,
But in this wood was a memory
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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