There’s a wall that gaps between the meaning of my existence
and the meaning of existence in general.
It’s a wall I can’t climb,
a wall without measure,
a wall without borders.
Because of this wall is why I’ve been blind for so long.
It’s why I leave the lights on at night.
It’s why I cover my face with shadow figures not wanting anything to remember my complexion.
It’s a wall made up of everything I’m afraid of.
Things that make a paper-cut-throat gush with the screams you never knew existed.
Things that cause teardrops to not only fall but instead break the barriers of sanity.
Things I don’t like to speak of.
Like how when I was younger,
I couldn’t differentiate between sane moments and the moments where everything seemed perfect
yet I was a suicide-time-bomb ticking away.
As if an alarm were trapped in my wrists.
As if a god were dictating from inside my veins,
from inside my bones,
until I exploded with the questions never answered until it was too late.
These are the things that make my stomach curl into the fetal position
until I rebirth new moments of wanting to be alive.
These are the moments I can’t relive until I can actually live again.
This wall, this wall of terror within my heart will never crumble
until I can leave the past in the past and remember that my future is bright.
This wall is a concrete resemblance of power,
a mountain so planted in my thoughts
it can never be removed.
Never be consumed by the tsunami of my ambition.
Never become a path I can easily walk to the other side.
It’s this wall that keeps me afraid at night.
Keeps me from jumping the fence of my mind to the other realm of my reality.
It’s this wall I can’t replace with one easily escapable.
It’s this wall.
This wall I find so unmistakably hard to confront.
This wall that has never been moved,
never been shaken from my psyche’s foundation.
Never been remembered as anything but a traumatic remembrance.
But everyday for the past three years,
I’ve found myself staring at the wall.
Whispering ideal chants and hopeful phrases into it’s core.
Until I’m not afraid anymore.
Until I realize borders cannot define my destination.
This wall will know I will not bow down again,
I will not crumble to it’s mass.
Or answer the echo calls bounced off its sides to scream lies into my soul.
NO, I can now turn the lights off,
I can uncover my face from the shadow world
and face the wall with unveiled freedom.
I will conquer,
I will prevail,
I will tear down the wall until each piece is nothing but particles of dust on life’s shelf.
The wall will never again define me
this wall will never again be resurrected.
I am free...
(Levi J. Mericle is a poet from New Mexico whose work has appeared in over 30 Literary magazines and journals from over half a dozen countries).
The Beautiful Space-