The scratched and pitted door

cellar-280

Somewhere
in this dim-lit pit
— where whispers mock my wish for hush —
lies a scratched and pitted door
— ravaged by cracked captives claws —
whose rust-locked hinges have no plan
to shift and set lost victims free.
I pray the rotting, oaken door
may swing aside for me.

Dampened cobwebbed arches
— dragged low by weight of foetid flies —
offer falsified, feigned promise
of an end beyond the rise.

Ducking ‘neath the grubby silk
I grimly beg the tainted troll
who locked me in this dread hell-hole
“Please speed me to my goal.”
An ochre silence fills the lonely space.
No gentle voice consoles, no crash resounds;
the walls don’t split to let in light and set me free.
I know within my clogging soul
the answer must be “No.”

With heavy tread I stumble on,
that I may gain my liberty.

©Jane Paterson Basil

Advertisements

19 thoughts on “The scratched and pitted door

Thank you for dropping by. If you have any thoughts, questions, treats or cures, you're welcome to drop them in the comment box.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.