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I needed to get this out of me.

This took a while: I wrote the first line on Sept. 21st and left it that way for weeks, not getting other poems done, feeling I needed to articulate more of my feelings related to that line, get them out, and then — I hope — move on to other thoughts. To, I hope, happier thoughts.

I have no title yet, but I feel OK about that.

Untitled
by Christopher Walsh, 9/21/2016-11/2/2016


I know more who not to trust
The ones I know to guard against
The made-up minds, the set-on thoughts
The closed-off paths, as if they're fenced
Perhaps a gladly-borrowed view,
Where others thought their thoughts for us
Or misplaced sense: "I must be right
And others' stances, just much fuss."
What do they hear? Would they hear me?
Would they hear more, beyond their sphere?
Can thoughts re-route at times like this
When heightened noise may drown our ears?
So much, we yell, as heartfelt cries
Or act-ed rage, put on for show
A tantrum done to get one's way:
"I forced your thoughts towards mine," they crow
(Or want to, yes? They'll feel correct
No matter what, sincere or in-)
Triumphant; sure; demanding more:
"My way is right — You Cannot Win."
One argument could end rapport:
"You still say that? There's nothing left
That we can do to find the common
Ground we had ’fore this: bereft
Of sense we now must be, or we'd
Reach ’cross the diff'rence gulf;
But you now want to argue — kill,
Devour me as like a wolf."
I self-protect: I hide the views
I fear you want to grind to dust
The worry overwhelms my hopes:
Is there a chance to once more trust?


© Christopher Walsh, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Christopher Walsh (chris_walsh) with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.