I’m building a wall
Out of words.
Cementless,
Unequally shaped,
Yet almost coherent;
Strong enough to keep in a sheep.
Strong enough to keep out any but the wiliest fox.
Some of the words are boulders,
Others pebbles.
Walls demarcate:
Families inside,
Neighbors outside.
Without walls, there are only strangers passing through:
Not judgeable, therefore not trustable.
This wall I’m building
Is my private property,
But you are welcome to come in.
I’d love to show it to you,
If you are the kind of person who appreciates walls;
Otherwise, no.
Perhaps I just need to prove that I can build a wall,
Whether to impress you,
Or just to reassure myself.
“I built a wall; I at least did that.
It isn’t a very good wall;
It wasn’t easy to get the top straight;
It does the job though.”
Otherwise, where would I put all these misshapen words,
All this rubble of babble?
Some say a wall of words is an illusion,
Like currency;
But I don’t buy it.
If everything is an illusion,
Then illusion is real.
Words have consequences:
Step inside.
