Bricks and Stones surround her now.

Clay from the Earth calms her now.  

Clay and Water, a perfect mix.

They Form the Day.

The bricks stack up.

Layer after layer, they are all displayed.  

The weight becomes heavy.

She is born. 

Sometimes it’s unbearable.

This weight, she wonders.

Is it charitable?

It’s worth it. It has to be.

No castle can be made without.

Foundations and Substratum.

Lay them, one by one.

It doesn’t affect her anymore.

By now she is accustomed.

Each brick that was thrown and given,

Hold the secrets of the ones who cast.  

They don’t know it. She does.

They help to build the walls higher.  

Solid. All held in place.

Stability, it’s what she craves.

Untouchable, protected by the bricks.

What am I? Who am I am? She would cry. 

Made up of all the pieces of brick.

She is Set in Stone.

Only she can understand the tone.  

Love, death, life, war.

Is this what we are living for?

Joy, hate, insults, and pain.

Experience. That’s it.

She is made of it all.

She is made of bricks.

This woman is built of bricks; she is standing tall. 

Now the ones who cast want to break down her wall. 

Rough yet smooth, she is made of it all. 

Thoughts:

I’ve had this idea in my head for a couple of days. It seemed like the idea just needed to come out. It’s beautiful to just let word flow right out of you. It’s not like this form of writing needs to be completely controlled. Just let it flow. Sure, I could have made a story about this, but the form of poetry felt best to portray what ideas I had in mind. This idea popped up due to a conversation I had with someone about all of the things that I have been going through in my life so far, as a human being on this planet. The bricks obviously symbolize many things, but I leave it all open for interpretation. That is the beauty of art. Poetry, to me, is like art. The character of this story, would be me – although I feel any human can relate to this poem, especially women. As far as the plot of the poem, it is literally built as you read on through the work. The bricks are metaphors that create the story within the work, and each brick actually holds its own story as referenced in the poem. Enjoy, and be free!