the ashen crossing

arqios

 

"the ashen crossing"

 

 

The archway is dust, and the mortar is sighing,
We stood on the lip of the canyon and watched the timber crack.
Kesh-va-tor. The word means "forward."
But who can spell the road when the span falls black?

We carried the oil, we carried the torches, we called it a sacred fire,
An absolute line in the bedrock, a beautiful, terrible spire.
Now the smoke clears.
The wind shears.

We are anchored to the ledge we chose.
No retreat to the valley, no ghost-walk back through the snows.
The gulf is wide, the air is cold, the final timber falls—
And when there are no longer bridges to burn,
The only direction left
Is the sky,
Or the walls.

 

 

 

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  • Author: crypticbard (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: July 7th, 2026 05:44
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 11
  • Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Comments +

Comments6

  • sorenbarrett

    Forward indeed in this poem of vivid detail and may I ask can it be metaphoric as well in our journey of life forward is the only path for none may turn back.

    • arqios

      Yes dear friend, in this metaphor the push is that at certain times the only direction is forward. Perhaps it isn't a U-turn but a completed loop around, possibly πŸ™πŸ•ŠοΈ

    • nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)

      the last leap comes across to me possibly, good write, enjoyed

    • orchidee

      Good write A.

      • arqios

        Thank you dear OπŸ™πŸ»πŸ•ŠοΈ

      • Kevin Hulme

        Sometimes in life there is no 'Going Back'.
        And will have to deal with the choices we made.

        • arqios

          Too right! Thanks Kevin πŸ™πŸ»πŸ•ŠοΈ

        • Doggerel Dave

          Well if it's a metaphor I shouldn't bother , but I have to tell you I got stuck on this narrow ledge, no way forward or back, hoping for the imminent arrival of the Westpac helicopter....
          Not a good feeling...

          • arqios

            Ah yes! That icon of rescue imprinted in the mind forever. Not a good feeling on the precarious side of the affair. Thanks for gracing my page yet again dear friend, you have been missed.πŸ™πŸ•ŠοΈ

          • Tristan Robert Lange

            This was powerful, Rik…from the sacred fire that becomes destruction to that final choice between the sky or the walls, this poem builds toward a reckoning that doesn’t let you look away. Wonderfully written.πŸŒΉπŸ–€πŸ™πŸ•―οΈπŸ¦β€β¬›



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