Stonewalling Poem by Mark Murphy

There are words, sometimes. We cannot utter
them. Safer. Better then, we do not talk
of hearts and courses,

facing this or facing that. We know
our present business here
is to laugh.

Only, when I see the gaps, drawing me back
from distance to distance,
such simple acts:

the placing of things, for instance, that go
unnoticed. Stone upon stone.
Prayer upon prayer.

Not walling in, not walling out, just being;
I wonder at our private hurts,
divergent paths.

There are stones, sometimes. We cannot place
them. Safer. Better then, we do not talk
of hearts and courses,

facing this or facing that. Our wall
will find its own course
in time,

settle into earth, steadfast and patient,
this rock will forever echo
our passing.