Stone by Stone

I was thinking about the past last night and how aspects of it seem to slip into the present. What's up with that? Why can't the past stay away and not taint the present?

I'm not saying my past is tainting my present--well, no more than what the average person taint. But there are times when aspects of my past seem to flicker in my present, like the flutter of eyelashes when I blink.

A conversation with my friend Sara yesterday made me think of walls and how I've watched them as they are built and feeling helpless as to stop them. The thought stuck with me all evening and before bed I logged on to write the poem below. I call it Stone By Stone

I remember this spring, green and sparkly like sun on water.
The petals of dogwood trees floating on air like whispers.
Rain fell in soft sprinkles, kissing the new grass into growth.
You held my hand and we danced beneath a smiling moon.

Our passion ignited the skies and we wept with the intensity.
I think that we made spring arrive early with our love,
green, lush and so beautiful—almost painful to look at.
Winter would have embraced me all summer, if not for you.

Then as quickly as a summer thunderstorm, you pulled away,
my delicate hand gloveless without yours.
Was it the exotic intensity that you couldn't handle?
Or my passion that burned your soul with a kiss?

There are no answers as to why you built the wall.
In disbelief I watched you place each stone,
wondering if it was heaven crying or me.
No mason could have done a more perfect job.

In silence I waited for the wall to disappear,
hoping that you would see how it marred
our view of each other, of our love…of our heaven.
All you could see was your own sad view of yourself.

Part of me now looks at the wall and hates it,
wanting to bulldoze it to the ground in flames.
But my heart knows that you should remove it,
examining each stone and why you placed it there…

in the first place.