I remember a slanted hill with grasses and very short trees.
I remember it arced down until it became the edge of a black rock cliff overlooking the waters.
I remember a fortified house between the top of the hill and the cliff.
I remember the beaten road where horses passed by.
I remember sitting on a horse and speaking to a woman.
She was standing on the steps leading out to the courtyard.
The steps lead to a kitchen area.
She had dark long hair and wore the same colors as I.
I remember the small room and wooden bed
where the window looked out over the waters.
I remember a tiny chapel behind the fortified house.
I remember burying a book inside the chapel, with a piece of jewely to identify me.
I remember three friends who visited often there.
These were men who sat and drank and shared food with me.
They respected my home, respected those in my home and respected my life.
They were loyal friends unto death.
I remember forcing a sword into the ground as I fell to my knees.
I remember the feel of heavy armour, and light armour.
I remember being afraid yet couragious enough to act anyway.
There was an off colored stone in the far right corner of the stable
unlike the rest.
I remember the dirt.
I remember the ropes to the beach.
I can see clearly the hall where i dropped my coverings
I can see the candle lit paintings on the wall in the main sitting room
I remember where she sewed our colors and crafted many things.
There was no children at home
We never had that chance or blessing
this Home was far away from any skirmish or trouble.
I remember finding God in the water’s reflections
and the vast sea of stars in the sky.
I remember meteors
I remember showing them to her as she ran to greet me by the cliffs edge.
There was a time I cried in the chapel
and many nights I was grateful for warm bedding
I cannot remember what I did, or what my life was devoted to
I do remember caring very deeply for the land and people of my country
I do remember news and council from friends.
I remember fields and blankets and laughing
She would hide parchment with words between rocks in the walls for me to find. Sometimes just pictures she drew.
I remember a promise to always find her
knowing each generation it got harder
knowing each generation brough the burden of the previous one
knowing the difficulty and heavy burden
knowing almost everything would be forgotten.
There is so much more to this I remember
far to much to write
It has haunted me always
Inga estera bol fir tempesta
All Words and Images (unless otherwise noted)
Copyright © 2013 Ryan Ranney – Ranney Studios
Painting “Castle 1” Graphical Photo/Image ©2009 Colleen Ranney – used with permission
Ryan Ranney – Ranney Studios
All Rights Reserved