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Shields |
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Never allow the shields to drop; |
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never let old realities intrude; |
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never allow the memories to begin, |
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full of the turmoil they include. |
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All these years thin bulwarks held, |
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tremulous against insidious thoughts, |
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holding back darkening memories, |
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a tenuous peace, dearly bought. |
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Now and again a chink appeared |
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and the aching angst slipped by, |
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to be caught and mortared over |
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with a dismayed, shivering sigh. |
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Stifle the dreams; blank the mind, |
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hold firm against the ceaseless urging |
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of reawakened, bitter,
experiences |
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and their corrosive, relentless surging. |
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Though the years have grown long, |
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those harrowing days remain ever near, |
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filled with boredom, bravery, and
regret, |
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friendship, love, hatred, and fear. |
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Keep the mental ramparts high; |
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make forever sure they exclude |
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all the insistent, creeping memories |
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and the bleakness they exude. |
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© Thurman P. Woodfork 9/21/2010 |
Awarded 22 September 2010
Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork
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