Tearing them down
and building them up
– walls of comfort to
support my insecurities
– righteous purity
from my belly erupts
as your eyes betray you’re
not hearing but fearing me.

If I spent some time
behind the walls of a friend
could I learn a different
way to walk the path?
Would the universe
to my will finally bend
if I tried rolling in glitter
instead of wrath?

Either way be careful
as you approach
– the tuning of my temperament
may wax and wane
– for behind the grid
you seek to broach
remains a wilderness
as of yet untamed.



The photo is for the Weekly Photo Challenge: Grid
which coincided with a conversation with Ra about walls that intern inspired the poem.



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