Middle Child

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Photo: Keith Kreates

 

Her rooms were in the middle of the castle, hovering above the center of the river, sandwiched between two layers of guard rooms, bordered on both sides with sentinel halls.

Her residence, her very life, was perched between the woods on one bank and the manicured gardens on the other, split between one land and another, between a grand promenade entrance on one side and an into-the-wild entrance on the other, belonging to both and owned by neither. It was so by design.

Oh, she was no prisoner. She had the freedom of the castle and the pleasures of the adjacent lands. She could go riding or strolling, hunting or frolicking, visiting or picnicking. As long as she made sure to spend the exact time on either side of the river, as long as she took heed to show no favor, no preference, no prediliction.

Three of her attendants were timekeepers. One from each side of the river. One from a foreign country altogether. All three carried hourglasses and were charged with maintaining synchronicity. Disputes were rare, for they would mean a cease of all outdoor activities till the disagreement resolved, cause a strain on her well-being, tarnish their families, and lead to possible replacement. The timekeepers kept discrepancies to a minimum.

The comparable reality extended to everything: An exactly equal number of ladies in waiting from each side of the river, exactly the same number of servants, workers, soldiers, guards, and tradesmen who were allowed to live and work in, or gain access to the castle. The same number of her dresses had been made on each side of the river. Half the furniture, too.

The constant balancing act was tedious. It was also necessary.

“You are the bridge,” her governess had explained to her when — still a child — she was fed up with being shuttled across the castle mid-activity, so equal play time on the other side can be maintained. She did not want to have two of everything and be required to play with each equally. “You were born to end five hundred years of bloodshed.”

Her parents had defied odds and had sought alliance instead of massacres. They’d built a bridge over the fear and hate that endless war had fed. They’d began construction on the castle. They’d birthed her.

The people had watched and waited.

She was barely toddling when her parents’ carriage had gotten ambushed by some who’d believed that ending the alliance would enliven the centuries-old feuds. The warmongers were wrong. They’d killed her parents, but not the want for peace. People on both sides of the river came for the murderers. People on both sides worked to complete the castle-bridge and ensured the princess could be raised in its center.

It was on that day, cocooned in her governess’s lap, in the room above the river that had for generations divided her people, that she truly understood: After so much distrust, an exacting fairness had to be the glue that would hold peace till lasting trust could grow.

No betters. No less-thans. Not even the appearance of favorites.

The efforts to keep it so were sometimes so precise as to be ridiculous, but she preferred to err on the side of the absurd, rather than risk her people any harm.

She was the princess on the bridge.

Her rooms were in the middle of the castle, hovering above the center of the river, sandwiched between two layers of guard rooms, bordered on both sides with sentinel halls.

Her residence, her very life, was perched between the woods on one bank and the manicured gardens on the other, split between one land and another, belonging to both and owned by neither. It was so by design.

 

 

For Kreative Kue 238

It is Time

It is time Na'amaYehuda (2)

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

It is time to make time

For the truth

Of what happened.

It is time to make space

For what some wished

Not be known.

It is time to take heed

Of the lengths went

To smother

The misdeeds and bad choices

So the fake

Will take hold.

It is time to revisit

Civic duty and justice

And refuse to permit

Free reign for hate,

Greed and lies.

It is time to return

To the truth.

For in fact it has long been

Well way past

The time.

 

 

 

For December Squares: Time

 

Heart View

Belize4 InbarASif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

As we hold endless heartache

Of scandal, war, crime, abuse

May we also remember

Gentler waves, kinder views;

So the holes rent by hardship

Will not make us refuse

To let pain become a window

To the good we can profuse.

 

 

For the Pink September Squares

 

 

Behemoth

scale ChagitMoriahGibor

Photo: Chagit Moriah-Gibor

 

The sheer size of injustice

May derail many a

Courage,

But the sure footed will know

There’s much room to

Encourage,

For heft can usurp power

But does not need mean

Might,

When the small but the many

Can prove stronger in a

Fight.

 

Merriam-Webster’s word for July 25, 2018:

Behemoth

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!

For more visibility, tag your post with #WordOfDayNY, so your post can be searchable.

“Follow” me if you want to receive future prompts, or just pop in when you’re looking for inspiration. Here’s to the fun of writing and our ever-evolving blogging community!

 

Pyrotechnical Prayer

blue and red brocade fireworks at night

Photo by Laziii Codar on Pexels.com

 

May you light the sky

With color

Not with pain.

May you fill all hearts

With freedom

Not disdain.

May the booms resound

Within

To offer hope.

As the boons of

Independence

Widen scope.

 

 

Merriam-Webster’s word for July 4, 2018:

Pyrotechnics

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!

For more visibility, tag your post with #WordOfDayNY, so your post can be searchable.

“Follow” me if you want to receive future prompts, or just pop in when you’re looking for inspiration. Here’s to the fun of writing and our ever-evolving blogging community!

 

A Time’s Tome

 

 

There are tales in the making

Some so long, one might fear

Hope will drown in the swamps

Where the truth disappears.

But other tomes are unfolding

That the soul aches to hear:

Of corruption that ended

As justice grew near.

 

Merriam-Webster’s word for June 29, 2018:

Tome

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!

For more visibility, tag your post with #WordOfDayNY, so your post can be searchable.

“Follow” me if you want to receive future prompts, or just pop in when you’re looking for inspiration. Here’s to the fun of writing and our ever-evolving blogging community!

 

Ostensible Justice

 

When a rule was explained

As one meant to give voice

But abandoned

As soon

As one snatched up their choice,

Don’t be fooled to believe

It was done in good faith

For ostensible standards

Prove hypocrisy’s face.

 

 

Merriam-Webster’s word for June 28, 2018:

Ostensible

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!

For more visibility, tag your post with #WordOfDayNY, so your post can be searchable.

“Follow” me if you want to receive future prompts, or just pop in when you’re looking for inspiration. Here’s to the fun of writing and our ever-evolving blogging community!

 

 

Tide Turn

slow low tide

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

May the tide turn

May the flow return

May the long days of summer

Calm the ongoing churn.

May the sun warm cold hearts

Give their minds better charts

May the surf’s ancient drummer

Pulse a path to new starts.

 

 

For The Daily Post

Mallet Mind

mallet judge

Photo: Pinterest

 

As the gavel rises

To speak justice

Let the rule of law

Preside,

So not even an executive

Who feels they own

The rights for pride,

Can by claims of faux and fury

Dismiss

What they would rather hide,

When truth well knows

By sheer behavior

Schemes and snide,

That he had far too often

Lied

And it is past time he be

Tried.

 

 

For The Daily Post

Pause

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Before you lash out in righteousness to put down someone else,

Pause.

Before you cling-wrap your views against dissent or protest,

Pause.

Before you rush to justify hurtful decisions others’ made,

Pause.

Before you call ‘your’ God the only ‘right one,’

Pause.

Before you claim your nationality inherently superior,

Pause.

Before you blind yourself to others’ pain in a show of pseudo-legality,

Pause.

Before you seek to follow those who leave others behind,

Pause.

Before you point out others’ hate as ‘causing’ yours toward them,

Pause.

Before you rate some lives more worthy of respecting or protecting,

Pause.

Before you stand behind those who object injustice by inflicting it,

Pause.

Before you turn your back on instability you’d contributed to but now blame on others,

Pause.

Before you shrug off bullying, rudeness, disrespect, as “saying like it is,”

Pause.

Before you pack away the sway of facts, veracity, science, reality,

Pause.

Remember,

None of the above need be automatic.

None are the only way,

To live with some decisions you have made

Yet elect to look away from

Now that push has come to shove.

You are better than that.

Your soul will recall compassion.

It still remembers how,

If you just pause.