North is Home: A Narrative Poem

A dark thick forest,

Steep terrain, No rest.

Narrow trail and movement

In the brush, “what was that?!”

Fear sends sensations down my spine.

“keep moving” Seeing Polaris,

Above, Narrow breaks, tree line.

Can’t understand much of this.

“Keep moving north, north is home.”


Snow begins to fall, as if the wild

Could restore innocence, covering my tracks,

Memories of being a child

Bliss and simplicity,

Playing ball, ice cream and serenity.

Then my attention snaps back to the trail,

For in the moist mud, on the high precarious path,

My footing was about to fail,

But my hand found a youthful oak,

The strain crippled its form,

But saved me from certain death in the ravine,

A sudden drop, and never again would I be seen.

Shaken but not broken,

“Keep moving north, north is home.”


The snow thickens to a layered wall

Of wind and white

And I cannot see more than 2 feet ahead

I must stop for the night

A fever now pounding in my head

Digging under leaves to find

Kindling that is dry

And despairing, I pull out my flint

And stone, I must try.

Because the cold without moving

Will kill without fire, and with each strike

Cold and shivering:

“Get the fire going, last the night…

Because home is worth this pain.”




About Joe Suzz

I probably don't fit into your box. View all posts by Joe Suzz

15 responses to “North is Home: A Narrative Poem

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