Happy Almost Thanksgiving!
I was in a bit of an introspective mood this weekend, so in between writing about Aurelia and Aura and Julius and Constantine, I managed to write another poem. I really should be recording how many words in each of these poems, considering that these words would count towards NaNoWriMo, perhaps next year as I’ve already officially hit my goal, even though I need about 16,000 more words.
Anyways, this poem is about all the stuff that we build up inside ourselves, telling us that we’re not good enough or not worthy enough. Whether its job related, school related, significant other related or family related, we all have walls around parts of ourselves. In the class I’m taking, they call specific types of this covering – covering parts of yourself you don’t want others to see or know because you fear (Or know) it will disadvantage you in some way. So without further ado, here’s the poem Walls.
Walls
By Daniel Ottalini
At some point in my life
I never realized how tall
These walls I’d built around myself
Had grown, surrounded by impenetrable pall
Studded with towers immeasurably high
Shielded and fortified
Layer upon layer, line upon line
Built up through heartbreak and lie
Yet I knew every inch of these walls
Every stone, every carving, every mortar joint
Within lay something I’d thought was gone
Something precious that had once been anointed
At length I shouted
Cried out and denounced
These walls that surrounded me
Garrisoned by my worse parts, waiting to pounce
In darkness I believed that this was the end
As I’d fought the good fight, held out
But something this year has made me perceive with new eyes
Made me believe, turned me all about.
I no longer flee from these barriers
No longer cower and run or despair
Now I stride bravely forward, strike ahead
Push on without great care
Because no more do I walk alone
I have finally allowed myself to learn
that we strive together, breathe together, love together
and now I wait for the walls to have their turn
To collapse and disappear
burn and tumble and vaporize
As I root out every lie and every smear
And wonder what the hell used to happen here.
Modern Papyrus 