I used to play with wooden building blocks,
tried to build structures that would rise
to great heights. But the blocks would fall
prey to the world’s ever-present chains:
my attempts to build were not free
from the crushing grasp of gravity.
Now that I am grown, the gravity
of a situation sometimes blocks
me from truly feeling free;
I want to write a masterpiece, to rise,
to love and be loved, but steel chains
shackle me, and must freeze in place or fall.
When the towers of my life fall,
when the endless pressure of gravity
razes relationships, prose, and verse, when it chains
my pen and heart and when dead weight blocks
my dreams, I pray for the day when I will rise,
when unhindered I am finally free.
As a child, I was free.
Even when my Lego blocks would fall,
I still believed that one day I could rise.
Naïve, perhaps, but I didn’t care for gravity
or understand that all too often this world blocks
us, stops at nothing to bind us in chains.
But from even the strongest iron chains,
the stalwart soul can break free.
When pushing through cinder blocks,
We will all stumble and fall,
but no matter the situation’s gravity
we can yet rise.
So out of this present darkness, rise,
escape the cold embrace of chains,
reject the mere notion of gravity
and declare that you are free.
For though sometimes you may fall,
monuments were once just building blocks.
* * *
This poem is for New Heights patron Chris H., who requested a poem related to childhood. Once per month, I will write a short piece of prose, verse, or creative nonfiction about a topic chosen by a New Heights patron. Sign up today!