Under the Might (A Poem in Response to Annart's Description Challenge)

Fellow hubber Ann Carr (annart) posted an informative hub on choosing vocabulary in an effective way. At the end of her hub, she posted a challenge for other hubbers to describe any of the three pictures that she included, and weave it into a poem or a story. I chose the picture of "cloisters", and my poem follows.

I cried out aloud

But no one would hear

No distant echo

No footsteps were near

I stole into the light

Under pillar number seven

This is where he’d wait

Unless barred by heaven

Desperate though I was to meet

I still had time to feel awed

At the marvel of the cloisters

Starting at the west end of the quad

The silence began to scream

As I gazed up at the half domes

Cris-crossing each other

A pattern from a dreamer’s poems

My feet started to give in

Yet I could not feel the pain

I could only feel dwarfed

By the architectural terrain

After what it felt like eons

Of waiting under the might

The ninth pillar from the east end

Bore a tragic sight

I strolled on to get nearer

My footsteps made no sound

Right beyond the carved pillar

A crowd gathered around

I felt myself turn to ice

As I watched the sight in terror

A girl lay, in a pool of blood

On her face, the look of horror

The white marble of the cloisters

Built by a skillful artisan

Centuries ago with foreign tools

Turned into shades of crimson

Voices faded, faces blurred

I stood alone beside her

They uncovered her pale face

I saw myself as in a mirror

They took her away to the grave

I returned to my seventh pillar

Without a wait, I became a mist

And set forth to find my killer