Walls

At no point in my life have I ever thought of myself as a poet.  Most days I could not write poetry to save my life.  But once in a while – when in a highly charged emotional state – something that resembles poetry drips from the point of my pencil.  None of this has ever been published – or even submitted anywhere – but I thought I’d toss out a piece or two and see if it floats.

WALLS

walls, poetry, mental health

Oh, how I hate the walls.
Entraping, confining, restricting.
I’ve wandered through their labyrinthic confines all my life,
And never known happiness.
Except once.
For one fleeting moment, a spark of freedom broke in
Like a ray of sunlight in the darkness.
I held it to my breast, kissed it and cherished it.
My heart rejoiced with the feel of it.
And I was whole.
Then it was gone.
Shut out by the seething black-heartedness of those walls,
Sealing out even that one moment of happiness.
In rage, I launched against the walls.
I flailed the walls with my fists until they were torn and bruised.
The stones mocked me with their bloodied stains.
They thrived on my misery.
I withdrew.
Closing in upon myself until there was nothing but myself.
And in my own private world,
I began to plot against them.
How I would cheat them.
I would steal from them their very source of nourishment.
In death I would exit this hall of pain.
As I sunk happily into the dark abyss,
Self-amused with the joke,
My spirit suddenly cried out in anguish.
For I found that death is but a door
Leading to more walls!

 

6 thoughts on “Walls”

  1. I like it. Not exactly my view but, does well getting the thought across.
    Makes me think of my perspective on life and death as well.

    1. Not my view anymore either, Paul, (thank God). It was written long ago in a galaxy far, far, away.

  2. Life is like a prison and I felt the emotions your poem expresses when I was a young atheist and yet when Jesus found me I felt some release. It’s hard to keep close to Jesus, but there is freedom in his presence.

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