WALLS
I came to the lake in early morning
to escape the walls of human existence.
Here nothing is homeless, but the old woman
carrying her turtle life in a van, trying to remain
hidden as a orphan among the trees.
What have we become? Our tapestry is
unraveling, our woven selves reduced
to some tattered garments thoughtlessly
left on a curb under a bridge, by the side
of a freeway.
To be without walls is the ultimate punishment
for failure.
We define ourselves by separation.
We do not move in murmuration, in a
Cooperation that would leave the sky stunned.
Long ago we gave up our wings for walls.
