Walls

A hermit once shared with me that he was never afraid to love or be loved.

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I’ve often wondered how he managed this -how was he not afraid of hurt, for love and hurt go hand in hand. Whether our loved ones fail us, death takes them, or our love for them evolves to something less, hurt is always a byproduct of loving.

This is why we erect walls...walls to keep the love of others at bay, and walls to keep a tight rein on our love for others.

At times these walls suffocate us, but at times they give us the security we need to breathe.

At times these walls blind us, but at times they are all we wish to see; they are the day to day splendid horizon we witness in awe.

And not all walls are the same in different places around the world. Some walls are made of sweet-smelling wood, some of paper, some of brick, and some are made of iron.

Some walls were made to withstand the test of time, others to divide, and yet others were made to wail.

There are walls that can be climbed, others than can be demolished, and there are those few ones around which we can walk.

There are walls that feel cold to the touch, with names engraved on them to remember those that died for a good cause.

And there are the walls that you erected, see-through, transparent, for me to behold but not touch what they guard.