Atop my heart,
where its two hills bend inward,
lies the valley.
You sit astride—
a stubborn knight,
neither advancing,
nor dismounting.
Why do you remain?
I never invited you,
fearing your sword,
its blade honed on our silence.
I left the wicket ajar—
a slit to watch you—
watching me.
But three kin torches at my gate—
scorched your sight,
ignited your fear.
You fled like a coward,
left my depths unclaimed.
Your halberd scraped my hollow;
its echo—a cathedral bell,
tolling the coarse-silk wound.
Or is it me—
my longing—a magnet
latching your armor,
stabbing me?
It’s me.
I refused to let you go.
I stranded your ghost
in this valley.
Its shroud blinds me.
© 2025 WolverineLily 🌺
Author’s Note:
I usually don’t let people in. Writing breaks that habit. I composed this poem with a specific notion, then thought about this blog—like a wicket slit opening to strangers. It’s where I create, think, and process. Sometimes poems crack my gate wide. I chose to share this one—probably for that very reason. Yet lately, I find myself questioning the purpose of this space at all.
Wolverine Lily 