The camera pans across
An enormous, brightly dotted field
Of vegetation and flowers without names.
Soon, the lure of violins and French horns
Matches the appeal of the angle of light,
Provided by easy-going clouds,
Stepping aside to allow shafts
Of golden arrows to find their way home.
A meandering, cobbled road
Stretches across this visual canvas.
One end in a valley curves
Upward to a timeless village, where a lone figure
Stands on one of the stone roofs,
Gazing out and perhaps down.
As the credits begin,
Sadness pervades.
The conclusion we’d hoped for,
Did not happen.
But, as we begin to leave the theater,
Another solitary figure appears at the other end
Of that serpentine pathway.
Soon, both figures seem aware
Of each other, the one in town
Descends a series of rocky steps,
And strides briskly south,
While the other steps up the pace north.
Then, a collective gasp:
“It just might be.”
The credits pause to allow
The necessary conclusion
Of a well-told tale:
One that compelled its audience
To suffer with seeming risky,
If not tragic, hope;
And ultimately, give in to dark reality.
But no, in the end, one final surprise:
As the figures embrace,
The screen freezes
In extreme closeup.
It’s going to be all right ...
After all.
Better than all right,
Actually.
Just what a good doctor
Would have prescribed:
“Please allow me to say
Only one thing can get
You feeling a different way.
You need a feel good movie
And you need it today.”
