Thursday, September 24, 2015

Next to Me

There is a wall next to me.
It grows. 
It crumbles. 
Tendrils of green find their way through the gaps, 
Hope's Breath blooms. 

Some days, I forget it's there. 
Breezes fly through this valley
as in days disappeared. 
The mighty oak's branches rub against the stone.

Some days, the wall is the last anchor I have to you.
I lean, back sore, neck twisted
For there is depth below
That cannot be ignored which I must suck from the soil.

Some days, this wall is everything I fear
And other times it hides all I cannot face. 


  1. We all build walls. But I try to remember those famous words: "Mr. Gorbachov...tear down this wall!" :)

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