Easter season, crossing England’s spine,
boots clattering on Roman pavement,
afternoon’s final hill to climb,
awaiting on other side, Dent.
Cloudy skies commenced drizzling,
soaking woollen fleece through jacket;
northern climate accepting,
surging upwards, unseen summit.
Fog rolled in
from north-west;
picking up pace,
needed to win this race.
Path swallowed while walking,
silence featureless moor blanketing,
afternoon becoming evening,
fearful for survival, shivering.
Instead of hearty meal and pint,
fighting for my life,
perishing alone at night,
crying out for…Light.
Instant sun slaughtered mist,
soft light caressed valley,
beholding beneath, road desired,
leading to warmth, rest.
Death and rebirth,
short ascent to victory,
meaning discovered on earth;
resurrection for all humanity.
© Phil Kemp 2026
