Northward, ever northward,
despite the chilly blast,
despite the failure of the light,
my heart is drawn at last.

Southward, sometimes southward,
warm climates call my name,
tropic heat and days of ease,
draw me with the same.

But northward, always northward,
I am called again,
to the popples and the pines,
to lands of swamps and fens.

Eastward, sometimes eastward,
to antique lands I’m drawn,
to monuments and finery,
toward my nation’s dawn.

But northward, once more northward,
I find my pathway lies,
Not long before I have been gone,
the north has drawn my eyes.

Westward, sometimes westward,
adventure stirs my blood,
mountain pass and desert land
and cactus’ crimson bud.

But northward, finally northward
my destination stays,
a land of wild, untamed wealth
with tangled, winding ways.



Poem and photo taken from the 2018 edition of Artos, the literary journal of Bethlehem College & Seminary students. Photo by Sarah T., college alum.