Tuesday, January 24, 2006

The (literal) wailing wall,
by Reo Del Cigarrillo

If you could only separate
your tentacles from the mirror,
and once in a while
take a look in my direction,
said the stoic concrete wall.

I never tire of holding you
inside these four vertical planes,
you've never even noticed that
I exist and that flowers grow at my feet.
I know you've asked before -
"if these walls could only talk",
well I can!

You have taken me for granted,
for being the fortress to protect
the birth of your dreams at night;
for giving you a shade when the
sun wears down on your aging skin.

Look at my pores, feel how they breathe,
see yourself on my gray surface.
I am not the captor or the suppressor
of your actions. I am not the jail
with a grip on your thoughts.

I have stood still for quite some time,
your punishment is your stay
in this confined space.
I have listened to you sigh, moan,
and curse at the shining moon.

I don't have hands or arms to hold you,
I don't have pain to reciprocate,
I don't have to reason with you

COPYRIGHT: Reo Del Cigarrillo