We live in a world where everything
is on display, a constant waving of flags
we don’t even realise we’re holding.
And in it, all I want to do
is move away, find a quiet,
and have it as my own personal space.
There are times when I start to succeed
and fit it with neat trellis
full of climbing roses and honeysuckle,
vibrant and sweet
in a way that doesn’t overload my brain.
Yet, inevitably, it seems,
there is always someone who trips and falls,
flattening the entire thing –
or worse, those who come charging in deliberately
and smash it to pieces
so small and sharp
that I have to start again from scratch.
But even in times when I’m standing in this mess of debris,
I always welcome the gentle call of a friend
who knows they need not ask to come in because they have a key,
yet always do so anyway.
They take my hand,
and help me sweep the mess away.