Through twisted bars of dark wrought iron
I see the shining golden home.
There once I’d been in my personal Zion
from which I’d freely roam.
But now I note I’ve lost the key
to this imposing gate:
I stand outside, trying hard to see
what caused this change of fate.
When and why did I turn my back
on this inner keep of peace?
How to drop the sackcloth black
and find a new release?
Now I must pull me up
and scale these castle walls
that I myself had built
before I took this fall.
For my sake and for those I love
it’s time to find my way
back to where sounds of cooing doves
becalmed me, come what may.
Oct 23, 2024
Oct 23, 2024 at 8:58 AM UTC
Through twisted bars of dark wrought iron
I see the shining golden home.
There once I’d been in my personal Zion
from which I’d freely roam.
But now I note I’ve lost the key
to this imposing gate:
I stand outside, trying hard to see
what caused this change of fate.
When and why did I turn my back
on this inner keep of peace?
How to drop the sackcloth black
and find a new release?
Now I must pull me up
and scale these castle walls
that I myself had built
before I took this fall.
For my sake and for those I love
it’s time to find my way
back to where sounds of cooing doves
becalmed me, come what may.
An allegory of fighting depression inspired by seeing Holyroodhouse Palace through its wrought iron gates.