The Wall

By: Paulette M. Eberle ©

I stand safe behind the wall that I have built ever so carefully through the years. I have become the consummate actress. I greet those passing by on the road of life with a smile that belies the pain that has become the cornerstone of my fortress. I must maintain this façade or they will be upon me, a thunderous, stampeding horde, mounted on the horses of rage, bent on destruction – mine.
Ah! My fortress. It is built of the sturdiest of materials - bricks fashioned from every hurt, real or imagined, held together with the mortar of remembrance. It is not easy to maintain my wondrous structure. I am constantly on guard lest a traveler on life’s road should put a chink in my wall. It must remain strong and high. No laughter must penetrate its depths. No warm rays of the life giving sun must reach the other side. Nothing must remind me of my loss. And most importantly, no traveler must know my desperation.
Inside this wall I can rage against the agony of my endless night and no human ear will hear my desperate screams. I do not need them. Let them go on their way, oblivious to my plight. This thing called humanity is but a mask that beasts of prey wear to lull the unwary into complacency. Oh, they cannot fool me! I know they lie in wait, ready to pounce. Have I not seen them unmasked many times?
The first to shed this insidious mask was the one I had called "husband". He had stood beside me, uttering sacred vows, promising to stand at my side for all eternity.
When the darkness encroached, he sought the world of light, a world no longer mine. His deadly teeth, honed sharp on the stone of infidelity, ripped into my soul. No matter. I took this rejection and built my foundation.
There were many after him, who stood before me, teeth bared. I was defective. No longer worthy to run with the pack. So be it. I took this pain and strengthened my mortar.

************************************************

"Momma! Come! Smell the flowers. Look at all the colors and smell their sweetness!"
I lean against my wall, afraid to breathe lest the travelers hear me. Most do not bother coming so close to my wall anymore. They’ve learned that it is useless to attempt to breach this mighty wall. But of what flowers is this creature speaking? No flowers can grow near my wall. The bricks have leached the poison of which they are made into the earth. Nothing grows near my wall.
"Come away, child! Those are useless weeds. And don’t go near that wall! That’s a place of the dead!"
"They’re not weeds, Momma. They’re so beautiful!
I hear other voices now. The first low giggles reach my ears. Soon the giggles are joined by guffaws. "The kid’s an idiot! Look at her, making a big deal over some noxious weeds. She thinks they’re flowers!"
More voices join in, taunting, jeering. "Leave her there, woman. She belongs there. Maybe we should get the rest of the misfits and herd ‘em all here!"
I hear the soft sobbing. It must be the child. A little girl from the sound of things. The crying chips at the mortar of my wall. I learn closer, pressing my cheek against the cold brick. Slowly, I rise. Lifting my head above the wall.
"Hello, nice lady. Are these your beautiful flowers?" The child sniffs and I hear the sound of fabric swiping her skin. "I picked one. I hope you’re not angry with me. Can I pick one for you, too? They’re so pretty, all fluffy and yellow. They make me feel good."
As she speaks, I hear more mortar falling away from my carefully laid bricks. My hand reaches out tentatively over the wall. As my fingers reach the edge, they are brushed by a cool softness. "Take it, nice lady. It’s ever so beautiful." My fingers close around the delicate petals.
"Are you ok, little one?" My voice sounds harsh, though I don’t intend it to be. It has not been used to offer solace in a very long time.
"Of course, I’m ok. I don’t pay attention to those people. I have my Mommy and all our friends to protect me."
"Ouch!" One of my bricks has fallen on my foot, reminding me of the treachery of the masked ones. "You’d better start learning how to protect yourself, child. I didn’t hear a single voice raised in your defense."
A small hand reaches up and caresses my face. It is shriveled and deformed, but its touch is warm on my flesh and sends comforting heat coursing through my body. "Of course you didn’t hear them! You weren’t listening, silly." The child begins to giggle happily, forgetting her pain of a moment ago.
Intrigued, I throw one leg over the wall, pausing for just a moment before bringing the other one over and sliding to the ground on the other side.
Could this small one be right? Perhaps I hadn’t been listening for many years. Maybe…..
"Those mean people are stupid anyway. They think this is just a weed. I know better. This is the best flower of all! It grows no matter what. Everybody wants to kill it, but it won’t die. It makes beautiful flowers, year after year. And the color! It’s yellow, like the sun.

************************************

I have traveled many years since the voice of a child breached my wall. Now I have come full circle. I find myself by my wall once more. I pause along the way, wondering at the journey I have made. My wall has fallen to ruin, no longer recognizable as the grand fortress it once was. The bricks lay strewn haphazardly at the side of the road.
I turn my face towards the heavens and am warmed by the bright, spring sun. A man’s voice, grumbling and complaining calls me from my reverie. "Damn dandelions. Can’t get rid of ‘em no matter what I do."
I smile softly and recall a crippled child’s wise words. I reach down and pick up one of my old bricks. I can no longer recall from what pain this was fashioned and it no longer matters. The brick crumbles to dust between my fingers. I open my hand and a brisk spring breeze catches the dust and it is borne away.

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