Finding Fences

Breaking up the black & white thinking that is so characteristic of BPD; moving to the middle, finding the grey and sitting on the fence for a while.

I
doubt swallows,
she walks in fear--
it’s too hard,
this aiming for grey;

 

this breeze blows,
rain sodden clothes drag--
she wobbles,
loses balance;

 

that’s how, despite her tries,
she’s struck this dichotomy--
but she’s searching for fences,
she wants to find the grey.

 

II
fear swallows,
she walks in doubt--

it’s still hard,
but she aims for grey;

 

this breeze blows,
rain sodden clothes drag--
she wobbles,
almost catches herself;

 

that’s how, despite her tears,
she’s losing this dichotomy--

she’s finding fences,
she’s seeking out the grey.

 

III
fear swallowed,
she wears the doubt--
it’s hard,
balancing this way;

 

this breeze blows,
rain sodden clothes drag--
she wobbles,
finds her balance;

 

somehow, despite it all,
she’s broken free--
she’s found her fences,
she’s walking in the grey.

Reviews

[Creep]

I love the aim for grey! Absolutely LOVE it! When you feel your life is constantly in black, in a scale of black & white, white seems so unobtainable. We are forever trapped on this side of the yang. How utterly content and thankful some of us would be with just a little grey in our lives. To sit on that fence between and just breathe for a while.

[Susanna F]

I love this poem! Grey is a personal symbol of balance for me also, and though I don't suffer from BPD, I have similar problems, having grown up in an abusive, extremist and at times insane environment. You really captured the feeling of walking a line, trying not to fall off the tightrope of being functional, and also of how it gets easier with time. Wonderful!

[Eclipsing Moon]

hmm the form of the prose is bound yet freeflowingin form..repetition of broken verses.. a new form of its own and quite good.