Pondering The Walls

What happens when the walls that were originally designed, constructed, erected to keep out pain or memory or loss become permanent fixtures, a constant, part of the design?

What if walls have been there so long that no one remembers what it was like before they existed--therefore, in the minds of all, those walls have always existed?

Self-protection was the motive for these walls--to keep out anything and anyone who attempts to get in, get through to that place--where we are most vulnerable?

Self-preservation is the reason we allow the walls to settle in, downward, ensuring the strength of the foundation of fear which created them in the first place.

No one is getting in these walls. Not now, not ever.

These walls are strong, they will hold.
I can allow whomever I wish to enter and be safely contained with me.

These walls are sturdy, they will last forever.
I will allow them to put down roots; no one will question their existence, presence.

These walls are infallible, because I will it to be so.
I can ensure their existence by believing they will never be infiltrated or destroyed.

These walls are my walls, and I own them.
I will maintain ownership until I breathe my last--they are wholly mine.

No one is getting in these walls. Not now, not ever.

Within these walls, I make the rules.
Within these walls, I am in control of the emotional atmosphere.
Within these walls, I am safer than I would be without them.
Within these walls, it's only me. And sometimes you.

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This oddly constructed prosaic poetry was written after contemplation about "wall building"--a psychological questioning about how we create walls and reconstruct reality via the building of walls.

Yes, it was inspired by a true story.

How to Help a Sad Girl

She used to sing and dance
And wave her hands and heart
Freely.

Now she hums and hops
And starts to wave but
Stops.

Something has happened
To this girl who used to
Live and Laugh and Love.

She is sad now.

These days, she doesn't eat;
Flashes dark eyes in response
To questions or correction.

She has distanced herself
At just eleven now--
Something has changed her.

Her eyes are sad.

This once-bubbly girl
Sparkled in sequined light,
A walking ray of sunshine.

This, too, has changed.

Oh, how to help a sad girl--
Is there a way to unlock
The fear or pain within her?

From whence cometh this sadness?

Who can peel back the layers
Of self-defense to reveal
The little girl we once knew?

Sad girl, please take my hand.

Here, in my heart, is joy.
You can share it with me.
Here, in my hands, is peace--
I give it freely.
Here, take this song--
I wrote it for you.

Listen to my prayer for you,
Free spirit to spirit,
Feel my love for you;
It is full and there is plenty;
You don't have to perform
To receive it...

I bless you with my love.
I pray for your peace.
I speak renewal and joy restored:
You are beautiful, creative,
You are special, unique,
Perfect in every way.

There is no one like you
And He deemed it to be so.
Can't you see it?
I pray that you can see it,
For if you can catch a glimpse
Of YOU, you will be aware.

No more sad girl.