The Tower - By Mary Drixkie Ann Bojador

Written By: Mary Drixkie Ann Bojador

Category: Poetry

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Mary Drixkie Ann Bojador graces the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 with her evocative poem, "The Tower." This piece is a poignant reflection on the themes of resilience and transformation. Through vivid imagery and introspective narrative, Mary invites readers to delve into a world where structures both literal and metaphorical face inevitable change. Her contribution in the poetry category underscores the power of words to capture the essence of personal and universal truths.

About the Work

"The Tower" by Mary Drixkie Ann Bojador is a masterful exploration of collapse and renewal. The poem paints a vivid picture of a crumbling edifice, serving as a metaphor for personal and existential upheaval. The tone is somber yet hopeful, capturing the struggle and acceptance of inevitable change. Through rich imagery and a rhythmic flow, Mary crafts a narrative of introspection that resonates with the enduring human spirit and the courage to rebuild from the ruins.

The Tower

Original Submission by Mary Drixkie Ann Bojador

The Tower by Drixkie Bojador

The tower is crumbling.

The walls I knew, and built by hand

Piece by piece, slab by slab, one corner to another They are crumbling.

They are falling, messily, awfully.

And the sky is flashing.

I have my hands out, hanging on

As if one wall, one piece of it - saved

Could make a difference

Could keep it intact.

But the tower is falling

Not from the top down

But right from the very ground

The foundations are shaking

The ground has collapsed

Deeper than its roots

Farther than I built

Harder than the materials I used

More destructive than the storm above.

Everything is breaking down

The heights I achieved are falling

Every stone, every boulder, ever wall

No more windows

Not even a door

Closed, locked, open

It doesn’t matter

There is nothing anymore

There is nothing to stand upon, beside, look from and beyond to

I am no longer separate from the outside

The outside has come in

The tower crumbles

Hard and the imminence is relentless

The rain spatters on my face

Mixing with my tears

The cold brings me to shiver

Making the tremors inside me amplified

My body is weak, my bones shaking

I hold on

I try to hold on

To something, anything

Hoping there’s one thing to keep

But the tower is crumbling

Not from the top down

But from the ground up

The foundation has been destroyed There is nothing to stand upon

The fall is happening

The fall will complete

And here I am praying against the inevitable. And the sky flashes once more

And now thunder.

What more can I do?

What would you have me do?

My hands grasped at the deteriorating walls The stones I chose and placed by hand One on top of the other, with a vision of home Of safety, of assurance

And all the years I lived thinking it will last

And here I am, corrected in my belief Made humble by tempests, one after another And the last one, to bring me to my knees To declare my defeat

And say, “Surrender.”

The windows are gone

There is no door

The walls have fallen

And the foundation has been destroyed

Not one stone left feels right

Not one wall seems relevant anymore

And it still continues to rumble

The ground still continues to shake

And the sky flashes once more

With rain and wind breaking my spirit with it all “Surrender”

They say.

The wind, the sky, the rain, the tower itself

And me.

I look about me and there is nothing to hold on to anymore. I look at my hands and they are bloodied

And bare. Shaking and worn.

What more can I do?

What would you have me do?

“Surrender”

Like breath in the quiet.

A bird landing on a flower.

Leaf fluttering on a tree.

“Surrender.”

And for a moment

The flash in the sky looked more like light

The rain, felt more like cleanse

And the wind, as if it had me swaying.

And the remains of the tower, pleading.

“Surrender”

So I did.

I dropped my arms and let go.

And I stand there amidst it all.

A builder, broken.

And the tower still keeps crumbling.

What more can I do?

What else is there left to do?

And the remains of the tower, pleading.

And the sky flashes - and a glint catches my eye. A hammer in the rubble.

And the wind continues to howl, as the rain remains pouring. What else is there left to do?

And the remains of the tower, pleading.

I take the hammer by the handle.

Hanging on to it as I had hung on to my walls. Clasped with both hands.

A builder, breaking.

The tower still keeps crumbling.

So I raised my hammer, and started to break. Break it all down.

Stone by stone. Slab by slab.

Piece apart piece.

No more half-walls

No more dangling remains.

No dilapidated memories,

Or hopeless hopes.

No more things to fix, or pieces to bear to regain. No more.

No more.

No more.

Let the crumbling end.

Let the fall complete.

Let destruction win, as it does when it begins.

Here I am, striking it all down.

The builder, who breaks.

And nothing is left.

All rubble on the ground.

No weak foundations.

No shaky walls.

No shut windows, no locked doors.

Nothing left

To separate me from the world, the world from me.

Now there is nothing.

And the sky reduces to flickers.

And the rain became rhythmic drops.

And the wind eases into gentle gusts.

The tremor inside me slows.

And my body begins to hold.

The hands are just as bloodied and worn.

But over time it stills.

The grasp on my hammer becomes more steady.

I looked about me and saw destruction.

And in my hand the hammer that completed it.

And yet, something inside me… builds.

Something deep has been dug.

A crevice so deep, a foundation lain in it would withstand anything.

I looked at where the tower had stood.

And amidst the rubble, the ground it left.

A crevice so deep, a foundation lain in it would withstand anything. Would it? How many tempests would it take?

The hammer is grasped in my hand.

What more can I do?

What else can even be done?

Tempests will come

The sky will flash, the wind will howl and the rain will pour

It will come again, time unknown.

Towers will crumble.

Spirits will break.

What else can even be done?

The hammer is grasped in my hand.

I know the answer.

The wake of the destruction left a deep crevice

So deep, a foundation laid in it would withstand more than the first tower could. What else can even be done?

I know the answer.

Here, I stand, amidst nothing.

The builder.

And so,

I build.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a prestigious platform celebrating literary creativity and expression. Writers and poets from around the world are invited to share their unique voices and perspectives. This competition fosters a global community of artists, offering them the opportunity to connect and inspire through the written word. It is a testament to the enduring power of literature to transcend boundaries and unite diverse cultures.

We extend our heartfelt gratitude to Mary Drixkie Ann Bojador for her poignant contribution, "The Tower," to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her words remind us of the resilience inherent in the human spirit and the transformative power of surrender and renewal. We look forward to witnessing more of her inspiring work in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.