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| Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. |
My memories are like a falling-down fence
Listing under a lead-gray sky
The posts that seemed so strong and firm in early childhood
Were soon betrayed for what they really were
No foundation
No root
No inherent strength
Nothing to support the boundaries they insistently set
That was actually a good thing.
Had they been stronger
I might never have escaped
But escape I did
And have
Never fully, of course
Those posts, they move
They will always try to follow me
To fence me in
To reach me with their barbed strands
And pull me back into a place where I don't belong
Cutting, piercing, not flesh but spirit
Drawing forth blood and pain
But scars heal
As do tears
And tears
And even broken,
Limbs and heart alike reknit but roughly
It's better
Better than what we would call
The fenced place
That name we know so well
Not only of the land
A reservation of the spirit
But scars heal
As do tears
And tears
And even broken,
Limbs and heart alike reknit but roughly
It's better
Better than what we would call
The fenced place
That name we know so well
Not only of the land
A reservation of the spirit
And so the fence falls down
Its posts no stronger
Than those that tried
And failed
To contain
To hold
To bind and bound
Our ancestors' spirits
I took my chance long ago
Stepped over that falling-down fence
Memories are all that remain to bind me
And they, too, have begun to descend to the earth
Leaving a path
Strewn with wire
But a path
And like their spirits
My own is wounded
Healed
But it is free
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
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