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

seriously

 

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

 

(to

escape

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