#1989-Refuge

Over the years,

Some have observed,

My tendency to emulate rocks.

Hard, dour, at times sour.

For I built walls,

From the inside out.

It was the way I grew,

Watching those around,

Who better knew.

Yet I didn’t witness,

Their walls crumble in time.

I was too busy,

Building and guarding mine.

Now that they are gone,

I can better see,

That they were like me.

Afraid, of what may have been.