|
One Long Year Passed
Dolbadarn waits.
A stack of stone against the sky
Etched with a thousand names.
Long-dead,
Their names now grace
A different sort of stone
And I wonder;
I wonder if they did not provide themselves
More fitting monument
When they left their names here.
In the cemeteries,
The world wears away
All they once were.
Summed up in two short words
And that old lie: ‘Sleeping’.
But here
The castle remembers;
It holds those two words
Against its heart.
It forgets that they are sleeping.
The winds wear away the walls,
But Dolbadarn remembers.
It remembers,
And it waits.
A year.
One long, cold year has passed
Since I sat in this small, ice-hardened space,
My lovers at my side.
He, leant against the stairs,
Framed by candleflame,
Lost in thought.
She, sat in this very hollow,
Nestled against the very heart
Of this cold tower.
Her voice
Rising high against the stone:
‘Bleed in silence
Breathe in silence’.
We were interrupted then as well.
Now, one long year has passed
And I alone remain,
Scratching forlornly between the stones
(In this very hollow)
For some trace of that vigil
Of song and stone and sunlight
That we three once kept,
That I have left so far behind.
I find no such memory of my moment;
My two words etched against the stone.
But Dolbadarn remembers.
It remembers,
And it waits.
Gemma more often goes by the name of ShatteredRoses. She is a previously unpublished
writer from North Wales in the UK.
Email: Gemma
Return to Table of Contents
|