This way is ungated.
No barrier.
Crawl along hedgerows
wade through wheat fields.
The cows don’t care to cross the cattle guard.
Continue along the way,
eventually, I’ll come to you.
This poem is ungated,
too.
poem- small October 11, 2014
You were so very small
pulling your limbs inside yourself
wearing a vacant scowl,
trying to turn yourself inside out
to avoid notice,
when we were all there
for you.
So much trauma to hide from.
so many layers of armour.
Will we ever see you drop the ballast
so you can fly?
.
.
Probably a few too many metaphors here, but the sentiments hold true. May have to work on this one a bit more.
Shawn L. Bird 