Time To Unlock

the old city3 OsnatHalperinBarlev

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

Morning bells reverberated in the ancient alleyways, echoing against well-worn stone.

He rose to make his way from the humble room he slept in, to the place of worship his soul knew as his actual home.

The Old City of Jerusalem. The holy place named for harmony, recompense, greeting, and – with hopes for higher roads to be achieved – for wholeness, safety, and peace.

 

 

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Unlock in 63 words

 

Echoes Of Before

Old door Turkey OsnatHalperinBarlev

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

Who had stepped through this door

Over thresholds

Before?

What words did old timber

Hear

In times gone but still near?

Do dormant secrets

Await

Behind a roped-to-close gate?

If you step close enough to

Go through

Will the past echo to you?

 

For the Wits End Photo Challenge: History

 

Horse Spirit

Photo: Palaeolithic art at Foz Côa’s Archaeological Park, Portugal 

 

“Why do you hit the rock with sharpened stones?”

Golin quaked under The Elder’s frown. It was forbidden to harm The Rocks That Shelter. The big stones protected them from biting teeth and snarling maws. They stopped the wind. They held back scorching sun. They reflected heat from fires.

And let flames paint shadows, Golin thought.

“He will drive away Horse Spirit and we will starve,” Morsen scowled predictably.

“Let him answer,” The Elder said.

Morsen seethed. The old man always favored Golin.

“The Rocks That Shelter do not anger when the fire lives in them,” Golin pointed at the dancing reflection on the wall.

“He makes no sense,” Morsen pouted. A few others nodded but The Elder’s stony gaze did not leave Golin’s face.

“They draw the fire near,” Golin stressed. Couldn’t they see? “Perhaps The Rocks That Shelter will welcome Horse Spirit and call it here.”

 

 

For What Pegman Saw: Douro, Portugal

 

Liberty Sail

Liberty sail IngeVandormael

Photo: Inge Vandormael

 

So she stands in the harbor

Greeting weary souls’ sails.

Her eyes had welcomed

The many

Who fled war, harm, travail.

She faced cannons

Of hardship,

Wept as terror sought

To prevail.

She marks the better

We can be,

The stories nations

Can be proud

To tell.

Through many storms

In the harbor,

She lights the way

In the gale.

As hate now amplifies sorrow

Seeking to see her bounty

Curtailed,

She hopes her pledge ‘cross the ages

Won’t become one made

To no avail.

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: our world

 

Path to Light

Path to light SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

A long way stretches forward

Past the past

Toward light,

As they walk

In the footsteps

Of those who’d been here

And passed.

 

 

For the Which Way challenge

And Lens-Artists Challenge: Path

 

Tunnel Vision

castle tunnel SmadarHalperinEpshtein

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

 

Ancient stones

Tell a story

Of feet treading from

Light

To dark,

And the tunnel

Foreboding

As history

Left

Its mark.

 

For the Which Way Photo Challenge

 

 

Imminently Absent

Alaska glacier JaimeMichelle

Photo: Jaime Michelle

 

Every year it shrinks back

Every year it grows less

Till too soon

It will be

But a memory

Unless.

 

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: Absent

 

Long Unseen

Archeology Tel Zafit AtaraKatz

Photo: Atara Katz

 

As the stories unfold

Pried from time’s

Stranglehold

Bit by bit

You’ll behold

What the fingers

Of old

Would have seen

Could have told.

 

For the d’Verse Poets challenge: Unseen Things

 

Rows of Woe

Never Again3 OfirAsif

Photo: Ofir Asif

 

For we owe

Them to know

How rows of woe

Not long ago

Came to show

What can grow

If we do not forgo

Those who kowtow

To the lowest of low.

 

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Row

 

Tempestuous Times

cmurrey clothesline Flickr

Photo: cmurrey, Flickr

 

“These are tempestuous times,” she said

And her strong hands wrung the laundered sheets

To squeeze out suds

As she would want

To push out infiltrated evil.

“I’ve seen hardship before,” she stirred

The linens

In the boiling vat,

Simmering the despair

Till it foamed and evaporated

Into bleached hope.

“Wrong does not last,” she rinsed

And wrung

And shook

And hung

The wash

Till it fluttered

Free

To dry,

Only the barest of stains

Still visible

In the sun.

 

Merriam-Webster’s word for July 30, 2018:

Tempestuous

This post continues the blogging challenge in which Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day, serves as inspiration a-la the “Daily Prompt.”

Want to join me? Feel free to link to this post on your blog, and/or post a link to your blogpost in the comment section below so others can enjoy it, too. Poetry, photography, short stories, anecdotes: Go for it!

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