The Wall

I saw the wall he had built around himself to keep the pain out. I saw how high it was and how thick. It had been built over a lifetime from the pain of rejection and sorrow that comes from living. I saw how beautiful it was. The masonry was perfect. It's seams flawless. No hand holds, no way to grip it and climb over easily. It had to be torn down to get through.

So I tried. I bloodied myself as I beat against it. I was strong. I knew his pain so I persevered. I bashed myself against it, taking each beating in stride as I watched cracks appear every now and then. I ignored the pain in my shoulders, my back and the blood on my hands. I tore at it, I ripped at the stones as they slowly came loose.

I wondered if I had enough strength in me to do this task. I worried that I was not good enough to win his love. I knew he needed me. I knew he needed someone to just love him enough so he could be free of the wall he had built around himself. I knew he needed someone to rescue him from his despair. So I clawed at the wall before me.

I had seen his beauty. I had seen his goodness. I wanted to set it free so he could soar high and live freely. I needed to do this thing because that is what we do; we help others in need. I was trying to help those who were less fortunate than I was. I was trying to do the impossible. And I was amazed with each piece of the wall that came down. It was so large. Larger than I ever believed. Thicker than I ever thought possible.

But I kept at it. I kept digging and pulling and shredding until, finally, I realized the wall was not his, but mine.