May 18
poem challenge: COVID-Issue


I think I’ve hit a wall.
Maybe it’s a nice brick wall.
Because I am so tired of looking at everyone through a screen.
I think my hands have forgotten how rough a surface can be-
I only ever touch a smooth surfaces now.
Maybe it’s a high metal wall.
With my thoughts reflected back at me.
My fears bouncing off and back at my face.
Weeeeee, they cry.
I can’t seem to stop over thinking.
Perhaps it’s a cold iron wall.
Metal bars tightly fit together,
So I can barely fit my arm through.
I’m in some sort of prison at this point.
This house is becoming an ongoing punishment.
I want us all to break free of it.
I need us al to break free of it.
And maybe it’s a thick dark wooden wall.
Blessed with splinters. Too thick to burn.
I no longer have the patience to watch it burn.
To protect myself in gloves and mask against its smoke and splinters.
Maybe it’s a sifting sandy wall.
A high large hill of tiny grains that scrape your feet as you walk.
Each particle like a small hot coal.
Stay clear. We all must stay clear. Stay away.
Oh, but what if it’s made of unforgiving fire.
Dancing taunting flame.
A wall that can be crossed- If you hold your breath,
 and hope to all beings you can make it to the other side.
Forge through and hope
That you will not come out worse than how you were one the other side.
Scraped. Scarred. Scared.
This wall could be made of water.
And if I so much as graze it,
It will become a rushing river of echos echos echos. 
Of rock, tape, darkness, poison.
It is threatening to suffocate me.
It dare not disintegrate and dissolve to my delight.
Ha!  It won’t fall and tumble upon my head either.
It wouldn’t be that forgiving.
It will stay strong. And still. And impossible to move.
Until I find a door.
A window.
A hole.
A promise that my hope is not for nothing.
Or until I smack it so hard it breaks. 

About the Author: Treblemaker
I write because the music of language spoke to me in books and I wanted to make a beautiful noise to answer back ~ Lee Williams.