On Building Walls

a poem for the last two months

Photo by Jean-Luc Benazet on Unsplash

It’s been almost two months since I’ve written a long form post.

I’ve been here, just quieter than usual…building, patching, figuring out what needs protection and what needs air.

This poem is where I’ve been.

exiled heart
by Sam Messersmith

my exiled heart
the one
who built these walls,
the walls others keep 
saying to tear down,

what is it you're trying to protect?

this thick clutch of muscle feels it all
too much, most would say.
waves of sadness crash and drown it all.

the dark depths deceive.
we won't be tricked again,

certainly not by love's lies.
truth in sheep's clothing,
nothing but deception.

it stings and burns
the pain spreads,
hurts the ones 
nearest and dearest.

we won't lose them too,
not the ones who matter most.

They are the reason for the walls.

this exile patches
every hole, every crack, with
mortar,
mud,
blood,
whatever it takes
to stay whole.

I hope you are making art, dearest gentle reader.

I hope you are making something with your hands, your heart.

I hope you are tending the soil of your soul.

Holding your heart in mine.

-Sam

This poem was crafted at a workshop led by the incredible Corie Feiner who got me feeling my feelings again. She reminded me of my heart, and how it feels right now. Please check her and her Bodylove Poetry workshop series out.

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Thank you for reading. Comments and coffee warm my heart AND my hands.

If you’d like, you can buy me a coffee below.