The Wall

The Wall

The Wall

Weathered and worn
by rain
and lichen
mildew and bird shit
and the crud of
a million passing lifetimes
it stands
It’s been there
It’s not new
I’ve passed it there
ten thousand times
as I’ve gone about living
this life of mine
I’ve caught sight of it there
holding up nothing
in holding up itself
I’ve seen
and yet
never really seen
the way it stands
in the burning light
of the cloudless
in the cold and starless silence
of the shimmering night
It stands.
It stands
and it has stood
I’ve seen and yet
never seen
until today
in the small quiet moments
of not seeing
other things
not meant yet to be seen
I saw it there
and in its quiet strength
it spoke to me.

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