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

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

One Thousand Horsemen

By Cliff Lake
  One Thousand Horsemen   The call of an ally, A friend of old: “We ask your aid! Will you be bold?”   “Ancient terrors, Assail once more! Will you honor The oaths we swore?”   One thousand horsemen answer the call,   One thousand horsemen riding tall. One thousand horsemen, they prepare. One thousand horsemen, forth they fare.   “We have no word, Are we not heard? Are we forgot? Do you come not?”   “The terror hails, Our people quail! We are beset, Will you come yet?”   One thousand horsemen upon the hill, One thousand horsemen, duty they fill. One thousand horsemen make the climb. One thousand horsemen, are they in time?   “What do we hear? Is succor near? Have you arrived? Will we survive?”   “Hail faithful friend! Fear not an end! Our hope has come, Sound the war drum!”   One thousand horsemen, banners raised! One thousand horsemen, unafraid! One thousand horsemen, charging in! One thousand ho
Read more

The Edge

By Cliff Lake
  The Edge   Out on the edge… This is where we exist, A precipice, A future unseen and unknowable, An edge we constantly walk. Here on the edge, We step forward blindly, Though we tell ourselves That we have planned well, But the future, Has no regard, For the mere mortal. Walking the edge, We may not see, What falls lie before us, What chasms may claim us, Nor how deeply they lurk. But know this: We have the strength, To climb out of darkness, If we but dare the edge again. Fear not brother! You are your own savior, If you but make the merest try. Do not despair sister! The unlooked-for hand, Will reach for you yet! Remember: From the bottom, The only way is up. Forward is the only motion, Time is allowed, In this frame we inhabit. It is the step to the side, That carries you down, Out here on the edge…   Straight ahead then - The path is before you.   Cliff Lake 2/24/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2
Read more

Used Up 'n Dried Up

By Cliff Lake
  Used Up ‘n Dried Up   You scurried away from your ancestral home, Let’s face it boy, you’re out there on loan. Your markers cashed in, no more favors to call, Winds of change blowing cold, house of cards to fall. Livin’ in a hotel, bumming dollars from the poor, Sellin’ your Chinese trinkets, maybe try it door to door. Your hands in everyone’s pockets, no more spare change for you, Keep on beggin’ at the dockets, that is what’s left to do.   “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what they said. “You’re used up ‘n dried up; you’re bled.” “You’re out on the street, you’ve used up your cred.” “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what I said.   Oh, how you fell hard for that dictator, A long-time, well-known master baiter. He always had you pegged as some petty clown, Just look at how he has jerked you around.   “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what he said. “You’re used up ‘n dried up; you’re bled.” “Look at this crooked path that I led.” “You’re on
Read more