Ambergate (2009)
“I’m still small enough to wriggle through between the stones, the old secret way. I remember the bitter smell of dead stone, the ripple of secret water. I’ve been here before, long ago.
I go to the gate, but slowly, because I’m so weak, and run my fingers over it. I feel again the curls and whorls of gold, the smooth pieces of amber they hold, like chips from the sun. If I held a candle to it, it would glow: my amber gate. I see the faintest sheen of light on the surface of the water beyond.... When I was here before, warm fingers held mine.
I go back to the steps and climb them. I crawl through the hole again. The Eagle has His back to me. His wings are spread, but He can’t fly. The ravens can fly, but they are silent.
Hunger gnaws at my belly. They give us so little food in the Home. I think of food all the time. There are baskets of meat for Him, laid out on the purple cloth. How can He eat meat when He is made of stone?MoreLess
I go to the gate, but slowly, because I’m so weak, and run my fingers over it. I feel again the curls and whorls of gold, the smooth pieces of amber they hold, like chips from the sun. If I held a candle to it, it would glow: my amber gate. I see the faintest sheen of light on the surface of the water beyond.... When I was here before, warm fingers held mine.
I go back to the steps and climb them. I crawl through the hole again. The Eagle has His back to me. His wings are spread, but He can’t fly. The ravens can fly, but they are silent.
Hunger gnaws at my belly. They give us so little food in the Home. I think of food all the time. There are baskets of meat for Him, laid out on the purple cloth. How can He eat meat when He is made of stone?MoreLess
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