Haibun: The Door of my Vision - Gail Kavanagh

I am walking through a town that has seen much history. It is
abandoned now, the citizens long fled, but the evidence of their
struggle remains.

Windows gape in black
Tenement buildings, doors hang
Limply from their hinges.

Where are the people? The streets are old and cracked, some cobbled,
with slick oily puddles gleaming in the half light. Where is the sun?

Veins of winding streets
Once carried the flow of life
The heart beat is stilled

Before me is the city wall, stone upon stone laid with the careful
artlessness of the stone master, each piece fitting snugly into its
neighbour's curves and hollows. This wall has stood here longer than
the city. It hides what is beyond and the people were never curious
about it. More streets, they thought, another city, just like this one.

Five stone steps lead up
To the door in the wall, worn
smooth with many feet

I push open the door and stand, dazzled, by the vision beyond. Green
swards spread out before me, a misting of blue hills in the
distance, the sweet scents of herbs and flowers wash over me.

Through the door into
Enchantment, running barefoot
Beyond the prison walls.