Tag Archives: castle

Landscape of Love: Drawbridge

drawbridge moosline Pixabay door-1022148_1280

Today the word is barricade. The chains will groan and gripe as the links grind against one another, but the bridge will still rise and leave behind a gaping unassailable leap. Under the no-longer-there- road, the fish will swim to the cool shadow and find it gone, moving on, back to the edges and the reed banks further along. Perhaps those eyeing up our castle will now not relish a siege and also pass on through. We are safe inside, and the stores are plentiful. But later, when the winter comes, and the moat freezes, shall we find comfort in these dark stones? Shall our father give us bread instead? Mightn’t we still venture out into the daylight atop the towers, blinking and ready for renewal? Hope leaves its seeds everywhere, and life grows through cracks in rock. Light will always be waiting to return, and when we have had our fill of self and solitude, the old oak timbers may crash back down, and the world become once more our cloister.

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016

Photo from Pixabay

N.B. Once a week I will be returning to The Landscape of Love as a break from the Veil of Tears which can be quite a tough read (and write!) And hopefully to help keep my poetic prose flowing.


170: Moat

Photo by Jusben on http://www.morguefile.com

A ring around the Roses, river going nowhere, ouroboros snaking its way back to the start, over and over again. Goldfish asking, “Haven’t we been here before?” and “Are we nearly there yet?” like children in the back seat. Defence is the best offence, they say, full of eels and pike, slippery slopes and spiked jaws, ready to snap into action. Steep sides and woebetide anyone who clambers down in the drunken dark, larking for a swim and a kiss with the deep.

But what really stands between the inner sanctum and the world, the only boundary, the thinnest skin, the softest veil? A curtain of water, swirling thoughts and eddying pretences. And even if we drained you, wouldn’t we just be staring disappointedly into a muddy mire, fins faintly flapping here and there? Best you carry on going in circles then, and let the lilies float, remembering what is at stake and using the drawbridge when needs must.

© Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016