I am expected at the edge.
My feet sink deep into the bog as they carry my troubled soul to the Elderly.
At the onset of night, a murmur raises. In the darkness a calling drifts, and a shiver of light lurks the inexperienced towards the marsh.
Some say it’s dangerous to walk alone. Some speak of vicious voices.
But that’s blindness to see, refusal to understand, objection to open up and perceive.
Grandma lived near the woods. She taught me to trust the Elderly whenever I was upset. Her silver hair swam around in a scent of bread, rosemary and apples in the room. She kept telling me stories, among which there was one I liked the most – The Legend of a Hundred Entangled Words:
Awe and respect guide me
Into your realm I’m approaching
Watch me, Elderly
A light guides me
When the Moon’s away
Into your arms I lower my pride
Your words I welcome through the mist
Have I been or done wrong
Judge me, Elderly
Am I the one to go or the one to stay
Tell me, Elderly
Your whisper settles down yet stirs within
Am I to stay or am I to enter the soft door
Under my feet
I bend to your decision
Like a ripple of dew
Take me if you wish
Lead me to eternal light
Well, this is how I came to this land today. I’ve been following the poem. Hush, I already hear the Wise speaking.
My feet sink deep into the bog as they carry my troubled soul to the Elderly.
At the onset of night, a murmur raises. In the darkness a calling drifts, and a shiver of light lurks the inexperienced towards the marsh.
Some say it’s dangerous to walk alone. Some speak of vicious voices.
But that’s blindness to see, refusal to understand, objection to open up and perceive.
Grandma lived near the woods. She taught me to trust the Elderly whenever I was upset. Her silver hair swam around in a scent of bread, rosemary and apples in the room. She kept telling me stories, among which there was one I liked the most – The Legend of a Hundred Entangled Words:
Awe and respect guide me
Into your realm I’m approaching
Watch me, Elderly
A light guides me
When the Moon’s away
Into your arms I lower my pride
Your words I welcome through the mist
Have I been or done wrong
Judge me, Elderly
Am I the one to go or the one to stay
Tell me, Elderly
Your whisper settles down yet stirs within
Am I to stay or am I to enter the soft door
Under my feet
I bend to your decision
Like a ripple of dew
Take me if you wish
Lead me to eternal light
Well, this is how I came to this land today. I’ve been following the poem. Hush, I already hear the Wise speaking.
******
This is a contest entry for Bernita's Weirdly contest.
17 megjegyzés:
I love the words, Szelsofa. It is beautifully written.
But I am struggling with the message. Should youth bend to the elderly so completely? I disagree.
But although I disagree with the message, the writing itself is very beautiful. I also love how you incorporate prose and poetry.
No, not it's not the message.
Although I believe wise old people are to follow (by anyone), it is wisdom and not age one should follow.
There are fool among the old and some young people are surprisingly wise.
So, it's not my message.
Here, the speaker calls the Trees the Elderly.
I was thinking of some sort of a tradition where these majestic trees are considered bearer of knowledge, probably by some sort of a folks' belief system.
Hope this helped!
Excellent work. I really enjoyed this and it did have a feeling of "a tradition".
Very imaginative and well written.
Seriously, great job with this.
This is beautifully written.
I'm always amazed at how the picture based writing competitions result in so many diverse and wonderful ideas and words.
I am so glad you entered, Szelsofa.
Thank you.
Strugglingwriter,
Thank you. I wished to create a myth, or a folk-tradition, as I mentioned it to Ch. L. as well. I'm gald you liked it!
Absolute vanilla,
Thanks. I was amazed, too, by the wide variety of ideas: times, good and evil, merry or awful...all types of ideas.
Bernita,
I've managed. But it is my pleasure to take part in a competition like this - with all those wonderful entries by other people! Thanks for hosting it!
So beautifully written, Szelsofa, with truly poetic images and associations of words. I liked it very much!
Thank you Vesper, these words coming from you are truly appreciated.
*blushes*
I really liked this very much and I thought your words very powerful and meaningful. Very well done.
oh, Ello, I don't know what to say. Thank you.
"Her silver hair swam around in a scent of bread, rosemary, and apples in the room." My favorite sentence. I could smell this, and saw her hair loosening like silver taffy.
This story felt like I was walking through a mist that slowly parted. So gentle, pregnant, and wise.
Wonderful work, Szelsofa.
Sarah, thank you. You know, the character of 'Grandmother' could have been just as well left out of the whole story. Yet, it wanted to be there.
Good luck, I also wrote my story.
Thanks Szelsofa! Now I understand it better. I have trouble with symolism, so this is my fault.
I also loved the line that Sarah pointed out. It felt so alive.
Ropi,
I've seen your story and commented on it on our own blog. I had the same feeling to it what Jason said - a folktale one, and I liked that!
Church Lady,
I'm glad I was of some help.
That line?
Perhaps, a message from one of my grandmothers, who is now not alive.
Nice one Szelsofa! Good luck. :-)
Thanks Abhinav,
I think this must be really tough for Bernita. There are at least ten excellent entries, and there are at least ten quite really good ones, too!
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