Walls

the more I tear down my own walls

the higher yours get

if they crumble some

then you can’t stand

unprotected

I find it hard but I have faith

so I stay in the hard feelings

you build your walls higher again

I know it’s hard to feel safe

I build mine a bit try to meet you there

I’m claustrophobic now with walls

I start to chat with others who have no impenetrable walls

you feel me leave and build higher

I come back and try harder

your walls get higher

you make me wrong and don’t see

your part

now i can’t see you at all

walls so high

you shout I love you at the wall

we can’t hear each other through the bricks

you only catch every other word I say

that makes you cross

so you add bricks

my walls still down

I’m trampled on by your words

I refuse to build my wall

stubbornly

without walls I can see the view and breathe the clean air

I want you there too

but you can’t get past the wall

I can’t get back inside

coming to live with you behind your wall

doesn’t feel like a life

but sacrifice

of freedom

how my vulnerability feels to you

probably

so here we are

together apart

and the children don’t know if they should be walls up walls down

mostly they’re sitting on the ground

trying not to break like Humpty Dumpty

and it’s not what we wanted for them

but survival is stubborn

protection and control is illusion

even as I write this I think I’m right

that I know best

but who says what’s true

only my ego mind dancing with

staying alive

maybe you need your walls in this life

you probably do

This poem explores the painful, often invisible struggle that occurs within a long-term partnership, not an arms race of weapons, but of psychological warfare. It captures the paradox of vulnerability: the more I try to disarm by tearing down my walls, the more my partner feels exposed, leading them to stack their bricks higher.

The central conflict isn't a lack of love, but a fundamental difference in survival strategies. For me, safety is found in the ‘clean air of transparency and openness’. For him, safety is found in the fortress.

The tragedy of the poem and situation is in the breakdown of communication; when you shout ‘I love you’ at a wall, the message loses its nuance, becoming just another muffled sound that leads to more bricks and more misunderstanding.

I highlight that while walls are built for protection, they eventually become a prison. The ‘claustrophobia’ I feel reflects the loss of self that happens when we try to conform to a partner’s defensive boundaries.

Perhaps the most poignant moment is the image of my children, it serves as a sobering reminder that our internal defences don't just affect us; they create the environment in which the next generation learns to survive. And I shall probably die on my hill of the obsession with breaking my genetic blueprint of my childhood, also built on walls, lack of parental emotional availability.

In a moment of raw honesty, I question my own rightness. It acknowledges that the desire to be ‘wall-less’ can also be a form of ego, and that for some, the wall isn't a choice, it’s a perceived necessity for staying alive.

The stubbornness of survival is something I feel deeply as middle age hits, the heartbreaking realisation that sometimes, the very things we use to keep ourselves safe are the things that keep us alone. It asks the difficult question: Can two people coexist when one requires an open field and the other requires a bunker?!

©️viannearmour