Mind Walls

A poem comparing memories to walls.

Mind Walls

I look at the old, tattered, whitewashed walls of my mind.
They are stained and the colors of before bleed through.
They are ugly.
Do I whitewash yet again,
Or is this the time to take it back to the boards?

Claw hammer jabbed at the wall - hard.
A hole is made in a small wall,
Easy to repair if this becomes too much of a task.
I reach in, grab the drywall and pull - hard.
Cracks and pops explode the air
As the drywall breaks.

It hurts.
Old air trapped between the boards seeps out,
Mixing what was and what is,
Forming a hybrid I don't want.
I breathe deeply as I work
Fresh oxygen and old realities
Are taken in together.

Blisters form as more drywall rips away.
Nails are removed from the old boards
And thrown into the trash.
Time's debris is cleared away
And the reality shines through
The boards that hold my sanity.