IN THE RUINS OF A CASTLE
In the ruins if a castle so old
voices I used to hear,
Carried on the wind they came so
soft yet clear,
Restless voices, as if still in great hurt
and cruel pain,
The suffering within those walls
was very plain.
Ghostly shapes seemed to walk among
the cold mist,
Bemoaning a fate that appeared to
continue to exist,
What did they want from me, those
not set free
From some other prison walls, yet how
could that be?
Then I saw a plaque with names of those
who died there
Going back generations, ages of men and women
some young and fair.
I wrote them down I did not know why, then I felt
some comfort come
As if they had a accomplished what for them
had to be done.
I made sure that their temple work was
completed right away,
Worked hard, then one special moment a
wonderful day
Returned to the old castle and a great joy
swept over me
As those spirits seemed to come and thank me
for being set free.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson 15 July 2004