Willing Walls

Every rock feels like a wall
Weighted on the edges fit
To gloss right over
Enjambment holding words, lines
Together sentenced inside
The poem, river stones
Smoothed yet separated like
Those who secrets keep
Under mounds stacked much
Higher than maybe any desire.

Constant, no buyer
For the passions readily
Acquired under siege
Of rolling onslaught, bolder
Than before romance tendered.

The song, melodious surrender,
Now love, revoke the walls built
On forgotten dreams
Turn to see what such fascination
Means as inspiration – flames –
Creativity, freedom inclination,
No mystery tearing down
Careful barriers
Constructed to prohibit feral
Growth as if nothing is enough.

Love is no stone though
One might throw, causing ripples
On the surface, it seems time
Is only these shared moments,
All other becomes deprivation extreme,
A heart can be open
Or remain as hard as a stone;
The bedrock alone
Challenged with an anomalous difference
Which may be given and shown,
Love is and becomes the soul’s true home.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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