Like a battlement
the wall has repulsed time,
embracing the
morsels of life,
that foraged and assailed
in the chequered
alternations of seasons.
There is no
cloning conformity to its face,
no contortions of
nip and tuck
to present a
façade of contemporary fashion.
Concrete pillars
and brick bastions have come and gone -
their unforgiving
solidity
falling foul of
subsidence and decay,
within its stoic
gaze.
This is a living
wall, the breaths of uncounted lives
coming and going,
birthing and rotting,
hunters and prey
playing their
spans
in and out of its
cuddling.
Secret passages,
bed chambers, dining halls
inhabit its
fortification.
Its strength lies
in its unconformity
in elastic flexibility
it withstands assault
each piece in its
place, its bed of truth;
touching and
touched, angled and dangled
to best
advantage.
Size isn’t
everything, the smallest shard
making stable the
prime ministers of stone.
The secret of its
gentle resilience
is not the
genesis of rock
but the spaces in
between.
1 comment:
So much to glean between the stones and lines. Superb!
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