I clung to the rough, white wall.
My mother always chose flat over satin.
The comfort came from the solidity of the wall itself,
n o t t h e f i n i s h .
The universe would eat me up in my dreams.
Until I felt the wall return to my grasp,
I wasn’t sure if I had ever been
s p i t b a c k o u t .
In growing, I became my own white wall.
Realizing the purpose of the rough finish.
Nothing about this life is smooth.
Life is a challenge to stay grounded through
t h e p a s s i n g n i g h t m a r e s.
