The Keep
(Original Version)
Once upon a time you stepped outside.
Over your shoulder then—iconic walls
you’d known since you were carried in, an infant
to be baptized in the stained-glass light,
beneath the gaze of marble saints, enfolded
by ancient hymns, and bells, and fervent prayer.
You stepped outside, an ex-communicate.
You moved beyond the shadow of the keep.
Still, against the distant horizon
of every homesickness you’ve known, of every
longing for the sheltered sanctity,
that keep was there—fixed, immutable.
No more. The very walls are toppling now,
over your shoulder only dawn or dusk
enfolding all the broken world. But why,
my melancholy soul, are you so stunned
to find it so? Move on. You’ve always known
that Christ the Keep is out there in the streets.
The Keep
(Re(En)Visioned)
Once upon a time:
you were carried, an infant in stained-
glass light, the gaze of marble,
enfolded by ancient
hymns, bells, and fervent prayer. Since,
stepped outside, over
your then-iconic walls—
an ex-communicate, you moved beyond
the shadow, the Keep.
Still, against distant
horizons you’ve known for the sheltered sanctity,
Keep was there—fixed.
No more the very
of every toppling now. Over-shoulder
only dawn, or enfolding—
all the broken! But why,
my Melancholy, are you so stunned to find
it so? Move.
You’ve always known
the Keep is out in the streets, to be
of every.
© 2020 Madeleine Mysko
Madeleine Mysko’s poetry collection, Crucial Blue, was released in 2019. She is also the author of two novels, Bringing Vincent Home and Stone Harbor Bound. She coordinates the “Reflections” column for American Journal of Nursing and teaches writing at Goucher College.
30 for 30 is sponsored by Potomac Review
I really like this one.