I wrote the following poem decades ago as a young, distraught man, and it was published in The American Poetry Anthology, Vol X, No 2, circa 1990.
I seldom share it with anyone anymore, because it’s so dark and nihilistic, and I’ve since grown and matured (I hope, anyway!) and no longer foster such a dark outlook on life. But back then I certainly did, for the obvious reasons conveyed in the poem.
Or, in the words of Clive Barker: “We are all our own graveyards; we squat amongst the tombstones of the people we once were.”
Anyway, even though it’s from a dark period of my past that I’d rather forget, I thought I’d go ahead share it here, for what it’s worth:
THE WALL
by Rand Eastwood
• • • • •
we never quite recover
from our very first lover
the only one before THE WALL
love started in vain
ended in pain
setting the pace for them all
each a stab to the heart
each tears us apart
we swear it won’t happen again
brick cast in fears
mortar born of tears
let the lifetime construction begin
for each trial, an error
to love becomes terror
another brick, another trowel of mortar
soon THE WALL surrounds us
keeps out those around us
insanity lurks on the border…
The Wall Copyright © Rand Eastwood | Eastwood Innovations, LLC | Woodlands Press | All Rights Reserved
Thank you for taking a moment to read my poem…remember, I publish some of my fiction for free reading here on the blog, under My Fiction, if anyone is interested in checking it out…
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