How often have you woken
a bolt
in our bed.
Eyes wide, lungs strangled
fighting for breath,
my watchman,
my lover,
my eyes in the dark,
how is it
that night now comes
to bore holes in your heart?
Once upon
another life you say.
You paced these streets,
these city streets,
let lanterns guide your way.
But now we have no lanterns,
and now you have no light,
and all my watchman is,
is afraid of the night.
Carol J Forrester - Writing and Works 
I was wondering what made the watchman afraid of the night ~ Perhaps a terrible experience, perhaps a devastating loss, it seems a pity that he has lost the light ~
Thanks for the lovely response ~
Thank you for the lovely comment. To be honest when I started writing this piece I was trying to write about the old London Watchmen who patrolled the streets before policemen, but it sort of shifted and became something else.
Sad when a fearful, lantern-less watchman can no longer lead. Like your photo of church in ruins… religion without a relationship is empty. Thoughtful poem…thanks for linking with dVerse!
Thank you for the lovely comment. It’s actually a photo from Haughmond Abbey in Shropshire. I didn’t consider the analogy you just used until now.
I also would want to know the backstory. The first part of the poem made me think of my husband who is so protective–sometimes to the point of making me crazy. My watchman.
Haha, it can be both lovely and infuriating to have someone who wants to protect you. When I was writing this piece I was actually trying to write about the old London Watchmen, but instead it became more about my Grandmother and her decline into dementia.
A brilliant premise, & take on the prompt. So well written it can be interpreted several ways; what I read was that a husband has returned from war, & nightmares disturb him nightly, that fear has usurped solace, that his neural net is unraveled, & he is no longer the same man he once was.
That’s a really great interpretation and thank you for sharing it with me. This turned into one of those poems where I thought I was writing about one thing and then I’ve gone back to read it and realised it’s about something else entirely.
That’s hard when the watchman’s grown afraid of darkness.. These days things there are so many reasons.
Thank you for the comment, I glad you enjoyed the piece.
True the light can go out..
but a flame rekinDled
WiLL burn
briGhter
than
ever before
in Watchman
delight in Light
and sharing
too always NOW..:)
Thank you for such a creative response. 🙂 It’s always lovely to hear people responding to my poems with their own.
Great symbolism in this. It is quite sad to see the watchman afraid only of the dark and no longer able to share the light. Peace, Linda
Thank you Linda. I’m glad you like the symbolism, I’m not sure I even realised what I was trying to say in this piece until I’d written it.
Sometimes those are the best kinds of poems, the ones that seem to have a mind of their own. 🙂
I suppose they are.
Super. No lantern. Enjoyed!
I’m glad you enjoyed the piece, thank you for commenting.
It is so interesting when different interpretations evolve. Mine was that of a husband who had lost hope, perhaps because of an illness. The flow of your poem was very nice as well.
Thank you.