New Paint on Worn Walls

by | Aug 8, 2017 | Poetry


I feel your pain from afar.
Breach of trust on any level is hard to bear,

but that breach between intimates is unbearable
and the inner tumult that it leads to is disarming

and destructive to one’s heart, body, and soul.
As much as you may feel that you will never

trust anyone else again, you more than likely
will, at some point. And that individual will

earn their worthiness of your trust. Your arc
of healing may be quicker than most because

you are going about particulars in a rather
cogent and scrupulous manner. It took

considerable courage for you to confront
your wife’s lover. I would imagine that was

freeing to a large extent. Simple things carry
such weight during trying times such as these:

groceries, bike rides, applying new paint
on worn walls. The newness is acting as

a kind of forgetting so you can remember
what it is like to feel alive and at peace again.

Process in times like this appears to exhibit
a protracted sense of drag to you

and the world around you, but process speeds
up when you least expect it and brings you

round again to a new sense of health, slowly,
incrementally, and although

you may not be aware of it you are brought
round again to a fresh resolve,

a restored way of seeing. It happens. It will
happen more often. You will heal.


Wally Swist’s books include Huang Po and the Dimensions of Love (Southern Illinois University Press, 2012); The Daodejing: A New Interpretation, with David Breeden and Steven Schroeder (Lamar University Literary Press, 2015); and Invocation (Lamar University Literary Press, 2015). His forthcoming books are The Windbreak Pine (Snapshot Press, 2016), The View of the River (Kelsay Books, 2017), and Candling the Eggs (Shanti Arts, LLC, 2017).



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