Final Shield

 

Fields of dew

under the clouds,

overcast sky

and dampened shrouds,


unnerved and lost

in solid belief,

in something

that truly

retains the innocence

in me,


tired of being mistaken for

something you see to be.

I am guilty of nothing but

deep sensitivity


that cannot unleash,

that cannot be reached

when I will let it not

outside of this reality.


But I've been misread,

and there’s something to be said

as ones once trusted

whispered behind my back.


It’s like lying down on glass

as if it were a tea party

all smashed.


I stood for what's real

on some level

in some way

though not yours

or even mine.


This truth is,

and it's real.

It's complex,

but it's real.

It's overlapping,

but

it's real,

unique,

out there,

but real.


I cannot be hurt again.

I will not be hurt again.

I will not try my best

when weakened 

only to be condemned.


People tie things together

which are actually separate,

and I let myself

accept it,

and now I hang my head 

in shame.


But I won't take all the blame

when the gaslit lights

were the rain.


Do I need to be reborn

in a place where the universe can be sworn

to not let them hurt me again,

to not let me hurt me again?


Music notes I cling to, I tote,

for they're to be held and sung

through this acid rain

to shield from the pain.


This final shield surrounds me,

not too fancy: bold and plain,

‘cause I really can’t afford

to be wounded again.


 2015


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