Bricks

As a boy,

I became a keen collector

of bricks.

I started out modestly –

Little half-bricks

of self-doubt.

Before long I had so many

I had to keep them

In a brick bag

Lashed to my back.

Occasionally,

I would find,

Big, heavy bricks –

I found a cinderblock

First day of school.

When I was nine,

a teacher slipped

One into my bag.

But generally,

I inherited the

Big bricks from

Broken relationships.

My collection

Mostly comprised of

The common house brick.

Simple blocks of

Isolation

Loneliness

Uncertainty

And fear.

Easy to find

If you know

Where to look.

Insult – brick for my back

Put-down – brick for my back

Rejection – another brick.

At forty-five

The sheer weight of

So many bricks

Became crippling.

So, I decided to

Build a house.

But my bricks were

Old

Cracked

Crumbling

Unstable.

The best I could muster

Was a poorly

Constructed shelter.

So, now I make

My own bricks;

Better bricks.

My bag has

Been set aside.

Now, I lay them

As I make them.

This shelter is

No longer enough.

I think I might be

Making a home.