A teeny tiny opening only senseda breath of air whispering against a tense cheek
Stop, step back, what was that?
the wall stacked brick by brick seemed closed tight
closed on all sides
with no air
no way to go forward
only backward down an ever narrowing alley
panic welling up from beneath
threatening to overwhelm
then a slim ray of light
riding in on such a thin breath of air
old mortar brittle and breaking
an anxious push forward
daring to lean into the wall built from panic
enlarge the opening
create a doorway to a hopeful future
(not an easy task to dismantle a brick wall unless made of paper maiche)
“Panic is a sudden desertion of us, and a going
over to the enemy of our imagination.”
~ Christian Nestell Bovee
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