There is just something about a brick wall that has always felt very symbolic to me, partly because I know that bricks are laid one by one, with care taken to line them properly and to  apply the cement in just the right amount so that it is strong, attractive and protective.

I look at the bricks as if they are words and actions, placed one on top of other, over time, which can create either a wall of protection or a wall FOR protection .  I have built this wall for protection, guarding my heart for so long, only letting my guard down just enough to see if it felt safe and secure, giving the tiniest glimpses to those  that have earned a smidgen of my trust.

I have learned, though, that while I was protecting my own self, others were standing on the other side,  chipping away and trying to bring down the wall, one word, one brick  at a time…. and I felt myself begin to tip toe over to the ragged edge and to wonder if I could dare let the wall come tumbling down.

Then I realized that I could not. … not yet , anyway.

Up against

Brick walls

I stand tall

Enough

to see

flowers

growing

on the other side

watered well

with words

while here

the ground’s

been neglected

thirsting

to be filled

Enough

to overflow

once again

bloom

wildflowers

as far as the eye

can see

from the

wall