Punching Bricks

On this black path through a new chapter

there stands a wall.

It rises from the ashes of the past

and spans the width of the dreams it pushes against.

My wall is constructed

of used liquor bottles,

Nights unconscious on the floor;

Not heeding the warnings

And now paying the price….

Leaving broken hearts and dreams,

damaged and splintered lives

Of loved ones piled up like cord wood,

and shattered emotions from my loved ones.

It’s mortar is ignorance and it’s seams

are tight from selfishness.

The wall stands before a promised land,

and must be broken and penetrated

to see the sun again.

And, thick and formidable as it seems

There is light through the mortar—

there is a hole; a tiny one.

A chink in the vastness of it’s bounds.

It is called hope and it’s cracking the wall;

Its steely, strong and ceaseless;

Cracking beyond the pain;

Beyond the IVs and needles,

Beyond the endless blood tests

Past the shame and he tracks on my arms,

And past the ever present pain from the scopes;

Like a fighter, I tape my hands tight with grit,

and anger, and heart, and fire in my very soul against the enemy of my existence—

With a fury beyond measure at this turn

In the bend of my journey

that I have self imposed

and prepare for the fight ahead…

Knowing it will be bloody,

Exhausting, debilitating but glorious as I win it

Because I know that the land of dreams only takes one good punch to end the nightmare

And make that new journey and saga begin.

And that punch breaks brick.


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