Sarah MacPherson

His Castle

His castle barred, pushed to keep all out. No one allowed invading or entering at any cost. Great destruction hath occurred here. Great and intolerable pain hath been done. As my feet approached his gate, walls stood erect, unwilling to fall. His pain and anger for past conflicts paint the walls variations of madness. He hath consumed him self in solemn isolation. I do not pry, nor do I push for affection. Only through trust and kindness will his walls become weak, will his armour become brittle and hesitantly welcome me into the castle of which he guards himself, his feelings, and his heart. As I slowly sever through this resistant fortress I see a fragile man, not fragile in strength but in confidence and love. Though he hath loved before - the love of woman who in turn broke his heart- pain only followed. I hath held him in times of need, listened with no intent to scorn, and loved him with all my heart. Reassurance means nothing to a man with a broken heart. But I hold him still. I hold him to replace reassurance with definite reality.