Some Other Time

Some other time, you tell me,
maybe next year, we’ll go
back to where we started
and the Eastern Highlands, though

most of the friends we made there
have packed and fled, or died,
and the politics are bloodstained
and there’s now no mountainside

where the distant peak’s not only
too dangerous to stay
but the view’s of a landscape stretching
forever and a day.

Tom Vaughan