“Who here is without transgression?
Feel free to cast the first stone.”
Keeping them out. Keeping me in.
With those stones I built my home.
Tall broad and strong, I built my wall,
Forsaking stream and beast and tree.
This wall of stone must someday fall.
To the forest I must flee.
This Fortress has become my cell
Where I resigned myself to live-
A dark and foreboding bastille.
Defenses hold me captive.
Daughter/Daddy Writing Project:
My twelve year old daughter, Eva, is a burgeoning writer. Between a snowstorm and a broken down jeep, I’m hunkered down with my kids for a couple days. She wanted to learn how I write poetry so I offered to write a poem with her and teach her my creative process. I asked her to assign me a subject and she chose “the wall” as my topic.
First we sat down and brainstormed about walls. We discussed how walls can keep things out and keep things in. we talked about how fortresses can become the prison of those who hold up in them. The we talked about walls built of stones, which made us think of the stones that people throw at us and how we can wrongly use them to define ourselves- building walls with them. Then we decided that a meter of 8,7,8,7 would nicely represent the offset pattern of a stone wall.
We set about laying out our page of ideas into verse. Here, above, is the result- my latest poem- written in collaboration with my daughter, Eva.
She is now off trying her hand at her first solo poem about the blizzard that is raging outside. I can’t wait to read it.