entry picture

I see a face at the window

Looking from behind the shroud, stopwatch readied

Senses on edge, pieces

Of a shell

Reformed and moulded, a two-way mirror.


It hurts and pains the soul in me

From a glass-house, safe sanctuary

Brightened box

A beacon in this desolate night?

Or a slab of ice I broke, too thin?


On the edge of the pond

No light to see fish by

The reeds I clung to

On escape

Wet through.


Two strangers on the road approached

Asked my way and noble purpose

Said I had fled from a broken home

With windows boarded, shadows prowling



Without fear, only kept

At half-tide

The years below sunk in the barrel

From whence they strained the latest crop

Through roads at dawn the sight did grow.


As over darkness

The fears would go

One windscreen-wiper not working again

The other with an admirable

Half-hearted wave.


So we sat

And shared our tales so old

As familiarity numbed the cold

But a shock sent shivers

Through these bones.


And the arena I found myself thrust

At the bottom

The rows of steps

Steeped in dust

And they led from above.


Now entangled with nature

A climb too far

To now consider

One too many can sometimes be

Only one from never.


◄ In the Temples of the Elders

Crash Survivor's Log ►


No comments posted yet.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message