If I build a wall so tall, then maybe I can’t be seen. If I build it so tall, and for so long, maybe you will forget about me.
If I build a wall so tall, then I’ll be exhausted by my efforts and have no energy to climb. And if I build it so tall, when I’m finished I can run, and then hide away until the end of a time.
If I build a wall, that will cause a division. Then I don’t have to fear being let down from a life I can’t even envision.
My wall can hide me from disappointments, failures, and fears. My wall can separate me, and I can cry alone with my tears.
And when I build my wall so tall, so high I can hardly see. I can’t help but shake my head, and ask...”What’s wrong with me?”
Because my wall doesn’t provide coverage, safety, or security. My wall leaves me bitter and putrid and completely angry.
”But I’m fine!,” I will shout, hoping you will leave me alone. But, instead, you’re left sad and depressed. I think I even hear you groan.
But I’m not in a good place. I’m so angry. So sad. So I build my wall of division, hoping you’ll just stay mad.
If I’m alone with my grief, then I won’t have to open up. If I’m alone with my hurt, I can control when it is enough.
Unmet expectations, miscommunications, hope lost. I can prevent from experiencing these, if I build without considering the cost.
“Does it feel good,” you ask, “to push me away?” No. Not really. But if I let you in, you might not stay.
It’s hard to let love close when you don’t even like yourself. Doesn’t that make sense? When creating separation has been the perfect defense.
At times I want to knock this wall down and watch it crumble to pieces. But that means I’ll have to surrender to trust and vulnerability. And that...that’s not so easy.
And I know we’re both tired. So who will raise their white flag first? When does relentless pursuit exhaust someone enough to stop risking getting hurt?
I don’t know that if today I am ready. But I am upset with myself, too. Because even though I know that I’ve built this wall between us, I know I can’t live without you.
And so I write this in words, instead of saying it to your face. Because I hide behind the wall—in a different time. A different space.