For many it is a far journey to that legendary Place,
for a few it is merely shinnying the back fence.
The road can be thin as a blade
and drop away like a slice;
it can be slippery as leather on ice.
Some fall and need a lift up.
Where the ascent is steep and rocky,
some sing. Others make jokes.
Always there are those who share their bread
or extend and umbrella
when rain bends the head.
Another holds a small hand
or take a shaking arm.
Some fall back to accompany the faltering.
Choosing to go alone,
some travel barefoot,
with bowed head.
Each goes the best way he can,
and each does it in his own time.
—Dorothy V. Benson