Blue Gate


See those old blue boards.


Every one of them.

Warped and cracked and a bit twisted,

By time and weather.

Held fast together by old nails.

A brotherhood of memories

(Nothing holds stronger than memories).

The old paint is cracked and peeling

And underneath is more paint,

Down to the root of the wood.

A deep, rich blue.

Bluer than blue.

It’s the memory of blue.


The old gate swings wide,

Open to a path of cut stones and dark gravel.


How many?


How many feet have passed here?


There seems to be a garden beyond.

Dark broad leaves speak of a seaside town to me.

I imagine a narrow street in front,

Once for carriages,

Now maybe for cars,

But for passing people either way.


A gate is a border,

A frontier,

A mark of separation,

Discreet to discreet,

One to the other.


How many crossings marked by that gate?


I think, sometimes, that the whole weight of a life

May be left in a footstep

Each step carries the permanent ghost of a life.

I think, sometimes, that if I just knew how to squint my eyes,

Or cock my head

In just the right way,

I might see and hear the lifetime of memories

Pressed into each footprint.


How many stories carried through that gate?


That old gate stands,

With its curved top,

As it has always stood,

Against the weather

And against time.

Truthfully, for all I know it may be less than a year old.


That’s not true.

The truth is, that old gate has been there forever,

Carrying and holding and bound together

By memories.

A brotherhood of memories.


Nothing holds stronger than memories.


12 thoughts on “Blue Gate

  1. I really like this. First the picture brought me into it. Then the words. It’s amazing to me how you can keep adding more and more depth without seeming trite. I’m always afraid of that so I keep mine short. hmmmm.

  2. I thought about the comment regarding memories you made.

    Our flesh is merely memories of a life gone by, and should be filed away as history. Each day it seeks to reveal itself again and again, to keep us dwelling on that which is dead.

    Our destiny, however, is being written on our spirits, and should be enthusiastically pursued, drinking in the words our Jesus uses as He signs His Name on us.

    Just a thought. Thanks for coming by my blog and ‘Liking’ it!

  3. I agree that memories can certainly weigh us down and keeping us locked in the past is one of our Enemy’s great ploys. Memories also teach us though. And memories are one of the things that helps bind us to our friends. I enjoy your writings quite a lot.

  4. I think most of us have a “blue gate” of our past and some even survive even today. These gates that we passed through growing up do have stories to go with it.”Held fast together by old nails.

    A brotherhood of memories.” Memories we should always remember and appreciate. Beautiful post!

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