Remaining Walls

Remaining Walls

The Walls
are still here,
leaning  stoic and strong
against an imposing landscape.
Though they have been hit
many times
and have fallen to rubble
in many places,
they  maintain
a definite silhouette
in this world
I am so convinced
is real.
Though the tower
has crumbled
to the ground
and the draw bridge 
 remains open
and  descended
over the dry
and cracking moat...
these mighty  walls of stone,
now mossy
and discolored with age,
still stand stubbornly
around me.
 
I sit behind them,
in amongst
the weapons
I have stacked in rows
of guilt and anger
to defend
my little self with....
just in case someone 
or something
gets through.
I have collected
their weapons too,
and they lay
in messy piles
around me.
Charred and broken
remains of arrows,
sticks and stones
 that have made it over  
these walls
are my collected grievances,
a reminder
of why I am here.
I shiver
as I look upon them.
 
It is cold
within these walls
despite the
impressive strength
and the formidable illusion
of protection
they provide.
Sun can only filter in 
through the broken pieces
and the cracks
that life's storms
have created.
Though I reach
a hand out
longingly
to grasp and capture
each tiny ray
that makes its way to me,  
this "me"
I think I am
is turning pale and weak
without Its Brilliance,
a brilliance
I have not known
for too long.
  
The laughter
and singing voices
of  my many enemies 
out there
echoes in a muffled,
far away music
I can only mutely hear.
I place a lonely ear
against the cold stone
so I can feel 
the sweet vibration
of  every giggle,
every whisper,
as if it were coming  
from my own kin.


 I long to connect
to someone,
something
other than
this pathetic shell
I am in.
But I have
given up trying
to make my harsh
and raspy voice
extend beyond these
massive walls of stone.
I no longer cry out
to be heard.
I know that
 every noise
I make
will just be
boom -a -ranged
back to be,
like an empty note
that makes no sound.
 
So I just listen
and  I wait
for the sounds
of some phantom rescuer,
on a clomping steed
to reach me...
a sound I know,
I will never hear.
 
My eyes are blurry
from the darkness.
My limbs are weary
from underuse.
And my heart remains 
a shrivelled 
underplayed instrument
when I know
it is meant to beat
like a mighty drum.  
 
Yet, what can I do
but wait?
Wait for some force,
to come and save me.
This saviour
I now know,
will not be found
out there.
 The world beyond
these walls
has already failed
 too many times,
to protect me
or to at least
destroy
what I have created.
No, I suddenly realize
in this "alone"
and separate  state
that I am in,
is that what I need
to save me
is something
already  here,
hidden within
my fortress of stone.

 
Inspired
by a tiny ray of light,
I  get on my knees
and I close my eyes.
I look inward away
from the mossy walls
and into a different type
of emptiness.
With clearer  vision,
I seek
beyond the captivity
I have become
too familiar with  
to the perfect rescue,
 the only  true salvation
and the  Source of Light
I long for.
 
I then wrap
a weary hand
around the
long and flimsy pole
that is presented me.
With weak
and trembling limb
I extend it  up  and over
the tallest wall,
so the flapping
white flag
on its tip
can make my surrender
 known to all,
so it can make it
known to me.
 
The echoed voices
in the fading shadows
around me
will sing in
triumphant gratitude
for this  sweet surrender
that will allow
all remaining walls
to crumble to the ground.

Dale-Lyn ( March 28, 2020)

I know!  I know! It just came out here, so I put it here.  I tell myself to suck it up and learn from it lol.  There is some type of message in here somewhere.

All is well.