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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.

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?