Guardians

By Cliff Lake

 

Guardians

 

Ancient statues line the weathered course,

Solemn visages gaze upon the traveler,

Mute reminders of a past forgotten,

Telling nothing of themselves.

Who are these silent guardians?

See their stern glances!

Do not stray from this road;

They are watching.

Girded they are,

Lightly clothed in moss and ivy,

Yet somehow still clear-eyed.

Regal they are, yes and more:

They are vivid,

Lucid in their carriage,

Vigorous in stone:

An eloquent stillness,

Spirits in marbled elegance.

Reverence here is no option:

It is imposed,

Nonetheless,

One finds oneself willing,

And glad to venerate –

A pilgrim on this track

Senses their protection,

Though from what,

None dare ask,

And none have told.

Yet all that have come this way,

Speak in hushed and regarded tone

Of the stone watchers,

And of the cruel whispers heard:

Beckoning,

Imploring,

Raving,

To each side of the trail,

And none,

None remember

What was seen on that road,

Save the immobile warders,

Who keep all on that way safe,

All but the too curious,

And the foolhardy,

And any others

Who step away from the ancient pave,

And become forever lost,

And are whispers now,

Beseeching the unwary to join them,

And be whispers also.

Ancient statues line the ancient course,

Solemn visages gaze upon the traveler,

And keep him safe,

Keep him safe from himself,

If only he will heed.

Who are these silent guardians?

They tell nothing of themselves,

What need is there?

One requires only that they be,

And that one heeds their stern sight.

 

Cliff Lake 9/18/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

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