Member-only story
POETRY
Mural
On the healing power of children
I spent years laying brick
blocks of mental mud and clay
harvested from jabs and jokes
mockeries and falsehoods
bloody knuckles and loosened teeth
and swollen, black eyes
brick by brick the walls rose
sturdy and resolute as they climbed
and soared overhead
connecting in a beautifully agonic arch
but once finished the work did not cease
for burrowing beneath the walls
were betrayals, self-doubt, and regret
so I retired as a bricklayer
and got really good at mining
delving not for precious memories or underground rivers of solace
but making space for a feeling-proof
incursion-safe, invincible basement
beneath the soaring walls of bricks
Finally safe from a world I longed to experience
there came a scratching, a tapping
and nervousness crept in again
for a little hand, covered in gloriously
