My heart is locked in sorrow's tower tall,
Where neither sun nor moon may shed its grace,
And Fortune turns her ever gilded face
Away from me, indifferent to my call.
✨
I knew a time when joy held open court,
When love was sovereign and the days were long,
Yet now I trace the stones where I belong
And watch the seasons shift beyond the wall.
✨
O gentle Spring, thou comest bright and new
With all thy birds declaring life begun,
And still, I am the same imprisoned man.
✨
What profits me that fields are dressed in dew,
That meadows catch the glory of the sun?
My happiness, it seems, has other plans.
✨
The years do pass as clouds above me roll,
Each one a stranger bearing someone's name,
And those I loved have long since ceased to claim
The letters that I wrote to soothe my soul.
✨
Yet love itself, that old and stubborn coal,
Burns underneath the grey ash of my shame,
A warmth no Caribbean Sea, no foreign game
Of politics, may smother or control.
✨
So I shall write my verses till the day
That God in mercy opens wide the door,
And bids my weary spirit go in peace,
✨
For even kings must someday cease to stay
In towers built by war and nothing more,
And even captive hearts must find release.
Author’s Note:
I cannot point to a single moment that gave me the idea for this poem. It grew more out of a feeling than a specific event. I began thinking about the image of a person confined in a tower, watching the seasons change outside while his own life seems paused.
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
I am an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. I write about rural life, family, and the places I grew up around. My poetry and essays have appeared in Beautiful and Brutal Things, My latest book. Check it out on Amazon
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Comments (5)
Tim, this is incredibly moving. The imagery of the 'stubborn coal' burning beneath the grey ash is so powerful—as someone who thinks a lot about what lies beneath the surface, that metaphor really resonated with me. There is a beautiful, quiet strength in the idea of writing one's way toward release. A truly timeless piece.
Glorious work Tim!
I love this line “And bids my weary spirit go in peace”
This is so beautifully written, Tim.
This is so wistful. Caught between longing and acceptance.