Right

Open the gate
Lower the bridge
Let the flood in

Draw a deep breath
Tread then the waters
Refuse to give in

Fight the good battle
Hold fast your solace
Let them cry "sin"

Then...

Silence the noise
Pause for what's right
Savor the win!

Walls

We all build our walls
To protect us from those things we find most hurtful
But walls are isolating constructs
Great imaginings may be conjured within their presumed security
So we push them ever further out around us
Yet the more they obscure, the less we perceive and the more that we fear
Until one day, the thought occurs that perhaps...

The walls are not expanding outwards.

We are shrinking inwards.

Grief

Grief is like an anchor that fixes you firmly in place.
If you are very "strong" you may continue along,
   dragging it behind,
      scarcely aware the damage it's doing.

Eventually, though, you will need to reel it in.

Of course, you can always attempt to simply "cut the line,"
Untether yourself and leave it behind.
But, the time will come when you realize that
The great weight held within that anchor will be needed again. 

Healing time

Time does not heal all wounds.
For some it does nothing at all.
Instead, they seem only to grow deeper.
They may scar over,
Masking their depth from other's view.
But, beneath the surface...
they continue digging, ever closer to the core.

Still unstill

I've long accepted that my mind will forever be restless, wandering...unstill.
Yet, stagnation has always been my biggest nemesis, my greatest fear.
To a mind in constant motion stagnation means running in circles.
Action becomes its own focus, distracting from the fact that motion is not progress.
Until, eventually, the reality dawns that I am no further along a path than from whence I started.
Aware of this trap, I can, of course, direct my mental wanderings towards some meaningful journey.
But, still, the question remains...

Will I ever follow them?

Gone

Weeping words fall from fast fainting fingers, find
False feelings waning, weathered and wasted.
The last lingering laughter of a long languished love
Withers while waiting, wishing what was.