Rebuilding castles

Rebuilding castles

The poem Rebuilding castles, tells the story about matters of the heart. When faced with what Christina Sylvestro calls bad things, one may realise that there is always a silver lining to the most dark clouds.

About Christina

Christina Sylvestro is 25 and graduated from Montclair State University (New Jersey, US) in 2015. She got married in February 2017 and with her husband, she currently lives in Little Falls New Jersey.

This poetess was published in different magazines. Her work is inspired by her belief, that reading and writing every day will make you a better writer. In the case of Christina, it lead to the publication of several poems, including Rebuilding castles, on her Instagram page, that are way too beautiful or strong just to ignore.

About Rebuilding castles

As Christina explained to us, the poem is about relationships and how bad things may lead to a broken heart. There is always a way to rebuild your life. Christina:

There are many people in the world, and one day you will find your true love.

Good advice from Christina to live by.

Her poem is one that uses metaphors related to long forgotten times. The Middle ages. With kings and queens, that reign lands. The love in this poem, is based on – at least – the foundation that the poet lays for her loved one. This leads not only to building a castle, but also to make sure that the foundation for this castle is based on true love.

Rebuilding castles

By Christina Sylvestro

Rebuilding castles

Dear when are you coming home?
My troat burns hot, but our throne is cold.
All of the seeds we’ve sown
vanish in the wind like leprechaun gold.
The kindom loved the stories we told, and
our love that we inked on papyrus scrolls.
Now we are dust, decrepit and old,
it’s a shame I had to see our legacy unfold.

But there exist in the sea other rascals,
I’ll make one my king and build him a castle.
An entrance of a thousand burning candles
will illuminate new hard won battles.
Former men on horseback now ride cattle,
on guilded treads of finely woven saddles.
Pictures of us adorn every mantle,
smiling faces set our people an example.

Foundations fall, they often wilt, but
stone walls can be carefully rebuilt.
I’ve seen my kindom unravel
like threads on a quilt,
but you can always restitch old guilt.
Love is a concept often killed, and
blood is a liquid frequently spilled.
I exist now with what I know is true.
Now my blood runs freely, distilled,
flowing with you.

Image: Christina Sylvestro

Photo: Harm Jagerman

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