Compass Rose, by Suzana Wylie

Flashie Friday/Saturday/Sunday contribution, by me.


Autumn Stone Bridge
old stone bridge, Scotland, autumn


The compass rose points up and down
Along the river’s banks,
A border gurgling ‘mine’ and ‘thine’
Dividing into ranks
The whole of everything and all,
Joined here by hope’s stone arch
A treaty-truce, a gathering,
Where friend, not foe, may march.
And yet, unseen by common eye,
The compass rose does turn,
The selfsame arch becomes the mark
Where ‘dream’ and ‘real’ both yearn
To mate and part and mate again
As once in times of old
The dreaming walked in broad daylight
And real, the stories told.
A door between two worlds, perhaps,
A tenuous join at best.
A way across for entering in
May open on request.

2 thoughts on “Compass Rose, by Suzana Wylie

  1. Susan, I have said somewhere else how the trope of a compass “rose” fits this image remarkably well. The idea of divisions, of friend versus foe, past and future, vanish in the metaphor of wholeness. Yes, the compass envelops all, and the bridge between dream and reality join in your writing. Well thought out, beautifully stated, as always.


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