before we built the walls, there were none between us at all.
in that freedom of openness we reveled and revealed ourselves,
passing tenderly into sacred spaces;
we worshipped in wild abandon and were each the other’s best defender.
when first we built the walls, we were safe together inside them.
deep within our fortress, we opened all our doors, even ones that
had never opened since they day they’d been shut,
in places we didn’t even know. inside were animals,
the fruits of our wounds, and we suffered hurt from their unleashing
where we had never hurt one another before.
after the bloodshed, there were walls built between us
and now we walk alone, haunted by the other’s ghost
in a picture turned a negative, wondering how we may
return to the land we lived in before we built the walls.
