The High Castle (poem)



The High Castle



the world is silent now


once something sang

in the branches of the dying tree


it had a name

they all had names


there were names for everything

I cannot remember them


the older I get the less sure I am of anything

all I see is my world falling into darkness


stomping around the empty halls

with a festering wound that will not heal


I wish I could die



I wish I could die




the world has seen

alpha & omega


life still clings to this rock

let go


let go let go let go let go let go let go

before it all


happens again




long ago there was a vision –


a golden chalice

healing the old wounds

of the decayed earth


I do not know if it was meant for me


some days I sit beside the river

choked with dry weeds

watching a fading sun slowly descend


the trees scratching the dead sky

with bony fingers


hoping to see

a stranger

holding aloft

the golden cup


until then, I wait




the vortex

face the fury

& burn



Joanne Fisher



Like Drought Rhythms this is one of my apocalyptic poems. It is based heavily on the Fisher King myth. The narrator has gone slightly insane…



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©2020 Joanne Fisher





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