The Forbidden Window

I had a wonderful opportunity to go through some of the most fabulous images of France by Jon Rainford. I picked up one from his collection and it inspired me to write this one. I am loving this Ekphrastic poetry a great deal. You must check out his amazing pictures by following the link to his Flickr account. I am hoping to make this one a small series too.

The image is copyrighted and belongs to Jon Rainford. It is linked to source.

She stood there.. Trapped
For times longer than one can imagine
Glued
To a single spot.
The window called out to her
Screamed
Begging her to stay.
Was there a mysterious force
Lurking
Behind the dark dusty window?
Why was it so hard
Impossible
To move from the place, from the moment?
She was caught
Staring
Like a lunatic at the barren window.
She swore she saw
Movement
A spirit.. An energy that radiated
And spread its glow on her.
The knock of chilled air
Slapped
Right across her face as she
Felt the sharp pains of abuse
The agony of torture
The breaking of iron will
The loss of life.
The pain was huge
Immense
As it kept growing until
She thought she couldn’t
Survive.
She put in all her effort to
Open
The desolate window to erase
All the tormenting pain
And just as she touched the
Window
It jarred, moved and broke
Into a million pieces that felt
A part of her own.
And
She stood there.. Trapped
For times longer than one can imagine
Glued
To a single spot.
Her heart stilled..
Motionless
Another beautiful soul
Killed
As pangs of pain pierced
Right through her heart.
And yet, the legacy of forbidden window
Lives
As it gorges and feeds on
Life.

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