Ruins

By James Moran

When the sun set I went to the ruins.

When mother and George fought I went to the ruins. When George convinced the village mother should be executed I went to the ruins. When mounted nomads attacked the village I went to the ruins. Even when a pair of bears inhabited the ruins, I stayed there. I shivered beneath the massive stone face, whose beard is moist, whose eyes are pale green with lichen, and the bears conceded room for me.

While the village attempted, amid drought and famine, to rebuild, I stayed at the ruins. While the villagers pinned their blame on me like they had my mother, I stayed at the ruins. While they approached with their torches and axes, I stood beneath the stone face looking out. I watched their fear drive deep as they retreated from the unexpected bear den. Now, while they plan in hushed circles, I stay at the ruins. And when, prepared, they return and succeed in executing me, I will go to the ruins.

James Moran is a professional astrologer who regularly publishes articles, fiction, and poetry. His published works can be found at https://jamesmoran.org/the-creation-playpen