Narnia Poem - My Walk Through the Wardrobe

The following is a poem I wrote that was published in the Plant High School Literary Magazine Spring 2012, during my senior year. It was written only a few months after the release of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader film and was about the journey it was to experience the release of the films. It is very dated since it discusses anticipating the release of The Silver Chair, which was never filmed, so the wait that I alluded to never came to fruition.

In honor of the tenth anniversary of the release of the last Narnia film, I am sharing this poem. Enjoy!

My Walk Through the Wardrobe

By Tivoli Silas

A sniff of breezy,

cold fresh air;

A chilly wind brushed

against my face;

Turned the knob,

stepped over the

mothballs,

Passed the coats,

into the snow;

The tree of iron,

my heart lifted,

A stroll to tea,

with a nap and

the whistling robin;

The hiss of a beaver,

a delicious meal,

A journey of 100 miles,

the journey of a lifetime;

Staring into the eyes

of the lion,

living the greatest

story of all;

The battle fought,

the victory given,

The prophecy fulfilled,

the silver crown

glimmers in my hair;

Chasing the stag,

past the iron tree,

through the door again

The adventure begun.

Waiting for the return,

Overly anxious

Waiting for the

theme of waiting,

Brought back

by the blast of

the ivory horn;

Fighting the battle,

Crossing the river,

Through the tree,

home,

with more waiting

to come;

I grew,

I changed,

I remained queen,

The longer wait

for the voyage

of a lifetime;

Through the painting

I went

to the glistening sea

of the east

for which I was crowned;

Once a slave,

once more beautiful,

now less greedy,

now spiritually lifted,

a transformation,

back again;

Through the wave

back home,

changed.

The wait continues

like it’ll never end,

Yet my reign continues

till the end of time;

From the woods

to the mountains,

From the desert

to the rivers ,

From the castle

to the ocean,

I still rule,

I am queen,

Of the ocean

of the East,

of the woods

of the West,

of the sun

of the South,

of the sky

of the North

I wait for the return,

through the door,

by the rings,

I remain

high among queens;

But just Queen,

not High Queen

That’s me.