After years of censorship-
not unlike living in a world of dictatorship in which no one disgraces its King.
I dared not.
I would not-
speak of the burdens of the flesh.
It was merely self-preservation.
Not, that of loyalty to my King, but fear of retaliation.
My weapons, were few.
None, were tangible.
Daily, walking a skewed line of love and hate, careful not to stray from script.
I left a trail of breadcrumbs for the observant.
There were no takers.
Inevitably, my body cringed and vigilance prevailed.
As, I resumed an all too familiar task of, ‘keeper of the gate.'
Dee
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Comments4
Great write
Thank you.
Welcome
Thanks DEE ~ We all need a purpose in life and being "The Keeper of the Gate" is in my experience always an honorable one. Thanks for caring and sharing ~ you have my respect ~ always. Your Caring Friend BRIAN
Being "Keeper of the Gate" was not my purpose, my friend. It was my burden. Thank you for your kind words.
This reads well on many levels. I relate as the wife of an abusive alcoholic. "Keep it together and follow the script, no complaining, I'm just the 'keeper'". -- phoenix
I think we all seek to connect. Stay well!
Oh wow. The symbols and metaphors here in this jewel of a poem. Initially I was thinking of living under a communist dictator but the crumbs were little hints that this child I presume left for her family. Like most families they chose to turn away. She/he was left alone to guard the castle and the secret. The castle is her most precious possession. She dresses it daily. (Maybe I am way out in left field here, even so I thoroughly enjoyed this poem.)
You are correct. Thank you for our kind words.
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