the wall

by

Candi Timmerman

can this be everything?
This melancholy?
This pain?
This eternal exhaustion?
Sometimes I feel as if everything I do is somehow muted.
Like I have no real effect on anything around me.
A child pounding her fists
Against a wall.
A large, red, bloody, unbroken,
Brick wall.
I cannot move it with my will, or my prayers,
Or my strength_
I can cry and bludgeon the thing with my frail hands,
Clenched with the rage I feel
But it won’t be broken
And as something must give_
I fear it will be me.
And I am spent
Already bleeding
Just beginning.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Just sometimes
by: Joyce Hemsley
from: Sunderland, England, UK

To visit all of Candi Timmerman's poems, click HERE

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